A Touch of Spring for a Winter Soldier
by Mystic Lady Fae
Summary: The Winter Soldier thinks he's found the perfect person to help him remember his past and become a better man: Adena Rogers's cousin, Anna Wallace. Director Phil Coulson discovers this plan, and decides to recruit the reluctant girl for that purpose. Can she do for Bucky what he feels no one else can?
1. Diverging Paths

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan him and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters are mine.

AN: Okay, so this is going to be mostly Bucky and my new OC, but there will occasionally be appearances by Steve and Adena (like in the chapter). I don't know about the rest of the Avengers, but they _might_ show up, too, in the future. Anyway, please enjoy, and don't forget to review. Thanks!

**Chapter 1: Diverging Paths:**

More than a week after our last chat with Fury, Steve was still hard-pressed to decide where to start looking for Bucky.

So far, the only thing we'd really managed to do was settle into our apartment, and gotten officially hired by Stark Industries. Paperwork usually took ages to get through, but when you've got Tony Stark himself filling it out, things tend to get approved and processed much faster than usual.

Presently, Tony didn't have anywhere to send Steve, so my husband spent most of his time searching through the file that Natasha had provided, looking for clues and writing down places where Bucky had been.

I, meanwhile, looked through all the leaked SHIELD information online, hoping to find something useful. Between the two of us, Steve and I had found out that, as the Winter Soldier, Bucky had traveled to a dozen countries over the decades, all for missions on HYDRA's behalf.

However, he'd never stayed in any of those cities or sites for very long, and we both found it very doubtful that he'd return to a place where he'd killed someone, especially when he had no real ties to the area.

As a result of our long and rather fruitless searching, Steve often went to bed grumpy and exhausted from not finding any firm clues or information. When we finally went to bed late each night, the only thing that cheered him up enough to try and get a restful night's sleep was when the two of us cuddled up together, my head against his chest and his cheek resting on my head, the close contact providing just enough comfort to sooth our busy minds.

Finally, we decided to stop looking at where Bucky _had_ been, and started thinking of places where he would go to, if he needed to hide out. I started searching through more of SHIELD's leaked files, as well as any info forwarded to us by Phil or Natasha, to try and find out if there were any places he had retreated to in an emergency.

Unfortunately, this second list we were attempting to make was even smaller than the previous one. Steve guessed that it was because the Winter Soldier had rarely failed in his assignments, so he had never really needed to retreat to someplace secure. There had only been three or four such instances, and the hideouts that SHIELD had managed to discover had long been destroyed –one was now an empty field, and the other was civilian-owned bar and grill. Neither one was a likely place for an assassin to hide out in.

As time passed, Steve grew more and more edgy about finding Bucky. We had little to go on, and no concrete place to go to. He wanted to get going, but the world was still a big place, even in this day and age. People were, for the most part, easier to track down, but that's because they left a trail. HYDRA had made sure that they were the only ones who could find the Soldier.

As for me, I was seriously starting to have doubts about this whole thing. I knew that Bucky meant a whole lot to Steve, but it was obvious that he wasn't the same man from seventy years ago. The person Steve knew was either buried deep inside the Soldier's brain, or eradicated altogether, and I was terrified that the next time the two men met, Steve might not make it out alive again.

But even in spite of my doubts, I still clung to the slight glimmer of hope that Steve was right, and that Bucky's memories and personality were starting to come to the surface. I wanted to meet the young man my husband loved like a brother, to get to know a bit more about the life he had left behind, the life which he talked so little about, even after all this time.

It wasn't that Steve didn't trust me with his past; it was just that it was too painful to remember old friends, family, and memories of things that had happened back then. The only time he opened up was on our rare trips to the Smithsonian, and even then, it was usually to talk about his war buddies, nothing more.

The fact that Steve wanted to keep that part of his life private hurt, but I knew it hurt him far more than me to think about it. I only hoped that, with Bucky, the two of them might open up about that part of their lives, so that I could help the two of them through their pain.

And if our search for Bucky wasn't going bad enough, I had problems of my own. Steve thought that I was spending all of my time searching only for facts and information on Bucky. He had no idea that that was only _half_ of how my time was spent.

The other half was spent fending off my family.

* * *

Not long after Natasha had released SHIELD's files, I started getting phone calls from my parents and various other family members about what was going on. They had, of course, seen the destruction of the Carriers on television (clips of it were still being played over and over on news stations around the globe), and gotten freaked out.

Lucky for me, JT was clever enough to divert calls to a voicemail box of his creation, so that I wouldn't have to deal with my family's calls, Steve's injuries, our moves, and a million other things that had happened since then. It gave me enough of a breather so that I could get my shit together and try to settle down again with Steve.

Of course, since they couldn't get a hold of me by phone, my family members began flooding my inbox with e-mails. JT did what he could to divert them, so that I could deal with them later, but I knew that I'd eventually just have to face the music and start contacting everyone.

I decided that the best way to do that was with a simple, generic e-mail to everyone. I told them I was fine, that Steve and I were safe, and that we had a plan in place for staying that way. I also informed them that calling and e-mailing me constantly would only get me angry, and that if they wanted updates from me, I'd send out a notice to them once every couple weeks or so. They would have to be content with that.

Naturally, they weren't. Most of them flooded my inbox again with demands for immediate, individual e-mail responses, but the only people I was willing to do that for was my parents and my brother (who had decided to remain rather quiet during this whole thing).

Unfortunately for me, my parents demanded that I call them immediately and tell them everything that had happened. In their e-mail, Mom wanted me to go into hiding somewhere until things were safe (not going to happen), and Dad told me that a lot of the family wanted me to leave Steve, because being married to him had gotten much too dangerous. I told him that he could tell those relatives where they could stick that idea, since I wasn't leaving my husband for any reason.

All this I did behind Steve's back, since it wouldn't do him any good to worry about it. He had enough on his plate, and his efforts to find Bucky kept him so busy that we spent most of the day pouring over documents and the internet, without saying much to one another.

That's why, after one particularly stressful day, I was surprised when out of the blue, Steve suddenly spoke up, breaking the drawn out silence we were working in.

* * *

It pained Steve to admit it, but it needed to be said. "This is getting us nowhere."

Adena looked up from the computer screen she'd been staring at for the past several days, surprise written all over her face. But it wasn't the surprise that kept his attention –it was the dark circles under her eyes.

Blinking, Steve wondered how he hadn't notice those before, and silently cursed himself for being so blatant about his wife's health. She was clearly exhausted from all the effort of helping him with his search for Bucky, and he'd been so wrapped up in his own research that he'd never noticed.

"I'm an idiot," he said, startling her again.

"What? Did you learn something from the files that I didn't?" she asked, clearly confused.

He sighed. "No, those are two different topics. Our research is getting us nowhere, and I'm an idiot for not seeing how drained you are from looking at files that have nothing useful in them. I'm so sorry, Adena."

Adena gave him a tired grin. "I _am_ a bit beat," she admitted. "And you're right about the files. We've got nothing to go on, and nowhere for us to go to so that we can track him down."

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes as she did so. Getting up from his own seat, Steve made his way over to her and began to rub her shoulders. He smiled as Adena let out a contented sigh and leaned back, clearly in bliss.

"So what does that leave us?" she muttered as her body relaxed.

Hmm, that was a good question. Where did that leave them, besides sitting there with nothing?

"I was thinking about Russia and Eastern Europe," Steve admitted. "It's where I lost Bucky, and where he was found afterwards, before being dragged in by HYDRA. I think it's time for me to head over there and start asking questions."

His wife was quiet for a little while, and he wondered if it was because she was thinking, or she'd fallen asleep under his ministrations. Steve didn't stop his efforts on her shoulders, though –his fingers were rubbing against the soft, smooth skin there, and he rather liked the sensation.

"Well," she sighed as he rubbed a particular spot near her neck, "I guess it's off to Europe or Russia for us, then."

Steve froze. "Us?" he asked, not sure if he'd heard right.

Adena turned in her seat to look at him. "Don't think for one minute that you're leaving me behind," she firmly told him. "After watching you head out on missions, and seeing you almost _die_ on your last one, I am not letting you go out there with only Sam to watch your back!"

She glared at him as he tried to protest. Lucky for him, someone chose that moment to knock, or else he'd have been involved in an argument with his wife –and this one, he knew he'd lose.

Practically racing for the door, Steve opened it to the welcoming sight of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, giving them both thankful looks as he let them in. He was actually more surprised by their visit, but their impeccable timing was very much appreciated at this point!

"Tony, Pepper!" Adena exclaimed, a smile on her face as she welcomed them with hugs. "What are you two doing here? Sit down and let me get you something to drink."

Steve couldn't help but smile as his wife rushed to settle their friends on the couch. The three quickly agreed on lemonade to drink, and since Tony seemed to be hungry, Adena brought out a tray of chips and salsa. Since there were several bowls, Steve helped himself as he listened to what had brought his fellow Avenger to D.C.

"Business, as usual," Tony replied to Adena's inquiry. "Pepper and I needed to check up on how our friends from SHIELD are holding up, now that we've got them onboard as Stark employees."

Adena gave him a sly look. "I'll bet, after all the money you've poured into helping us."

Tony gave her an innocent look as Pepper laughed. "We can't take all the credit," the redhead said with a smile. "But we are glad you like the apartment. It was the least we could do, once we figured out that you wouldn't be able to return home after the whole Carrier incident."

"Yeah, you guys really aren't equipped to deal with rabid fans, reporters, and government types," Tony commented as he reached for a chip, which he used to scoop up a heap of salsa before popping it in his mouth. Around a mouthful of food, he said, "And since you both risked a lot for the greater good, we thought you deserved a nice place."

"We'll do what we can to pay you back," Steve promised as he also consumed a salsa-laden chip.

Tony waved his words aside. "Pepper and I won't accept any money from you guys; you know that." He grinned. "Besides, I own the building."

Pepper smacked him on the shoulder and threw her boyfriend a glare. "What he _means_ is that the _company_ owns the building, and all the other apartments here are inhabited by Stark Industries employees. This particular one just so happens to be more secure and private than the others, which is why we chose it for you."

"Well, that's a relief," Adena muttered as she sipped her glass of lemonade. "So, you're just here to check and see how Steve and I are settling in?"

Tony shook his head. "Actually, I've got a job for him to do in Europe. I'm hoping that he's ready to get to work." He smirked. "I've also got a little bird that says you're itching to get looking for that buddy of yours that you lost in the War. This might be a good chance to get started on that."

Adena crossed her arms and glared at both him and Steve. "He's not going alone," she flatly told them. "He needs backup."

Pepper nodded. "We know about Sam Wilson. Actually, we hired him this morning, and assigned him to be Steve's assistant."

To his surprise, Steve actually felt a bit excited about the whole thing. He was finally going to get the chance to start looking for Bucky! "When do we leave?"

"Yes," Adena drawled, "When _do_ we leave?"

Steve nearly choked as Tony said, "The three of you head out in a couple days. Travel's all in company jets and cars, and you'll be put up at a hotel where my employees tend to stay when you get there."

He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out two credit cards, handing one to Steve and the other to Adena. Looking at the card in his hands, Steve saw his name engraved on it, and knew that the other had Adena's.

"Corporate credit cards," Tony explained. "I'm giving one to you, Adena, in case you need anything and Steve's not around to get it for you." He grinned. "Just try not to have _too_ much fun with my money, okay?"

Adena gave a dramatic sigh. "_Fine_, take all the fun out of it!" she huffed as she put the card into her purse. "But seriously, Tony; thanks for doing all of this. I don't know what we'd have done, now that SHIELD's been taken down."

Pepper smiled as she cradled her cup of lemonade in her hands. "Don't worry about it. All that we ask is that Steve does the jobs we assign him, and in return, he can look for his friend all he wants. Keep us posted, though –we'll need to know if there's a way we can keep an eye out for him -or on him, if he's located. We don't want to risk your safety."

The rest of them agreed with her before changing conversation topics. Pepper and Adena chatted about fashion, while Tony gave Steve a few more details about what he'd be doing in Europe, as well as where he'd be going.

An hour later, their friends left, and Steve was busy trying to figure out how he was going to tell his wife that he didn't want her to go with him. Before he could, however, she gave him a firm look that told him arguing was going to be pointless. She was going: end of story.

Sighing, Steve gave into the inevitable and went to go pack.

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Washington D. C., a figure approached the Captain America exhibit in the Smithsonian. No one looked in his direction; all of them were too busy staring at the different artifacts and displays to notice him. If they had, they'd have seen the scruffy beard, the confusion in his face, and the look in his eyes that screamed of his desperate need to find _something_, though he knew not what he was searching _for_.

Still, he looked and dressed well enough to fit in with the crowd, so no one called for security to remove the man. That was good, because there were few fighters in the world who could best him.

In the exhibit, the stranger wandered through the rooms, eyes looking at everything and absorbing the information provided. He had learned of this place through a brochure in the rundown motel he currently dwelled in, and he had come today to try and find answers to the many questions swirling through his head. Much was dismissed as insignificant, but there were certain areas that were helpful, though not by much, in his opinion.

Finally, in one of the final rooms, he found it: an immense glass wall engraved with the information he was looking for. The wall was dedicated to James Buchanan Barnes, known fondly by his friends as 'Bucky.'

The information there was straight and to the point. It listed Bucky's birth date, detailed a bit about his younger years, and how he had joined the Second World War as a young man. It told of Bucky being Captain America's closest friend, and about his youth and war service. His efforts during the war were there, too, as well his death date. It was a very interesting wall.

After he had memorized everything there, the stranger walked out into the fading sunlight. He needed to think, and to consider his options.

Not long after, he returned to his temporary hideout. So far, HYDRA had not located him, but that was to be expected –in the resulting chaos following the Carriers' destruction, it was easy for him to lose himself in the world. He had found and extracted funds some of HYDRA's less-hidden bank accounts, carefully transferring them into various private accounts that were hidden even from their eyes. It was doubtful that they would find out where he was -for a while at least.

Sitting in the room, he thought about what to do next.

He could not return to HYDRA. He was not the same as he'd been before his encounter with Captain America during that heated battle on a freeway bridge. There was no doubt that, if HYDRA got their hands on him again, they would attempt to wipe his memories as thoroughly as possible –and if they failed in wiping his mind, they would resort to a full-out attack on his brain. He was too valuable an asset to leave 'compromised' by the new flood of memories, feelings, and thoughts that now plagued him.

But he could not simply become a normal man again. His metal arm would make him stand out, and someone would eventually know who he was: HYDRA's fist of destruction. SHIELD might no longer exist, but other agencies around the world would want him brought to justice for all the horrible things he had done over the decades.

But if he could not return to his violent path under HYDRA, he must choose the more mundane life of a plain man.

The problem was that he had no idea how to achieve that.

He was by no means a 'normal' man. He might have been, once, but things were very different now. He needed to be controlled –his temper was volatile, and very dangerous, which was why there were usually teams standing by to take him down if he ever went rogue during a mission. There had been a few unpleasant instances where he hadn't remained focused on the tasks he'd been given, and things had turned very ugly for those on the receiving end of his anger.

That was why, as much as he needed help remembering where he was, he needed someone to keep him in check. He needed someone with a cool head to counter his hot one –they would also need to help cool him off, too, whenever he acted out.

He had briefly considered the woman by the river as an option. She was Captain America's wife –that information was widely known now, thanks to the leak of SHIELD's files. If everything he had read about her was true, she could help him, at least with information and possibly his memories.

'_But after what I've done to the man she loved, she probably won't be very willing_.' The same could probably be said about her husband.

No, he needed someone who was just as knowledgeable about Captain America and 'Bucky' as Adena Rogers was. That would be someone she was close to, someone she had grown up with.

That was when he knew what he had to do…and what was required to do it.

* * *

AN: So, I'm going to be on vacation next week, and will not be updating until I get back. I'm sorry to leave everybody hanging with just this one chapter, but that's kind of how this worked out. I'm hoping everyone will be patient, and I will post as soon as I possibly can when I return. Thanks so much, and please don't forget to review!


	2. An Offer You Can't Refuse

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: I'm back! Enjoy, and please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 2: An Offer You Can't Refuse:**

With SHIELD's records laid out by Agent Romanoff, and data available with a quick Internet search, it had been remarkably easy finding information on Adena Rogers. All he needed was a café with internet access, a public computer, and a printer.

In only a few days, he was able to trace members of Adena's extended family, research them, and narrow his choice down to a handful of young women he felt met his requirements.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at the stacks of paper before him. He knew it was wrong, what he was planning to do, but there was no choice. He had money, he had many skills that could be both useful and deadly, but he had no friends or allies that he could trust to help him with this matter. He had nowhere and no one to turn to. This was his only option.

On each stack of paper was the name of a female in Adena Rogers' family. All were mature, adult women, and if the files and photos of them were any indication, were good and decent people. They also happened to be single or unattached, which he also deemed important, as he did not want an angry husband or boyfriend searching the globe for his girl.

It had actually surprised him, the sheer number of female relatives that Adena had in her family, and not all of them were the same. Most would find it difficult or alarming, to try and choose the right one for specific purposes, but not him –he was trained to assess which tools were best for any given circumstance, and it was the same with this particular situation.

The parameters were specific. He wanted a fully adult female, living independently of her family, unattached to a partner, with enough patience to assist him with his memories, and a strong will to stand against his outbursts.

It would normally take a squadron of men to deal with him, but for some reason, he felt himself developing a softness towards the opposite sex. It might be some sign of his former self, since as the Winter Soldier, he'd never had problems eliminating female targets.

Now, however, something inside screamed at him that a woman would be best. A voice inside wanted a woman, and his mind pointed towards the gentleness of a 'female touch,' so it was possible that a woman would be able to do what he believed men could not.

Perhaps it also had to do with the fact that it had been _male_ scientists that had done this to him in the first place.

"This," of course, was the metal arm that now replaced the one he had lost so long ago. It was incredibly superior to a normal arm, but he had long learned that the odd and unexplainable tended to alarm and frighten people. They took one look at his arm, which was far superior to the typical synthetic limb, and grew afraid.

And in most cases, his metallic arm was one of the last things they ever saw.

Scowling, he once again began going through the information he'd memorized on each female relative of Adena Rogers, and began to dismiss them when they did not meet his criteria.

Two of them were in their early twenties or late teens, and still in college. Though they no longer lived with their families, it was obvious that their absence would be immediately noticed by college friends and roommates, as well as teachers.

A third was rejected for her high-profile job –her absence would be noticed immediately by her assistant and coworkers. She also had nosy elderly neighbors who looked in on her and brought her food, so attempting to get close to her residence was out of the question.

Fourth was a young woman with a cheerful personality and patience, but unfortunately, she had married only a few days ago. Clearly, she was no longer an option.

This left only one to choose from. However, if he wanted to be sure she was the right one, there was more work he had to do.

* * *

It was unfortunate that one of the skill sets HYDRA had failed to program into him was spying on others. Bucky (as he now struggled to call himself) had never been able to keep himself inconspicuous; not before the accident that had cost him so much, not with HYDRA, and not now.

From the little bits and pieces that he occasionally remembered, he knew that he'd been a soldier, not a spy. He had gone charging into battle with Steve Rogers and a group of other fighters, ready to tear down the enemy, all weapons blazing. There had been times where he'd taken a distant, hidden shot to save his fellow soldiers, but that was a subtle as he had gotten.

Under HYDRA, he had been a programmed killer. His job was to go in, eliminate his target, and get out. None of this really required stealth and silence, or subtly –he was usually able to do all of this and leave without many people giving chase (probably because they were all dead or hiding to save their own lives). He had always made sure to study the ins-and-outs of the areas he was sent to, so that he could escape capture, but again, subtly wasn't necessary until it was time to escape back to a HYDRA base.

In either case, as a soldier or an assassin, hiding in plain sight wasn't something he'd picked up. Soldiers always wore their uniforms proudly, which attracted attention. As an assassin, he'd stood out in his mask and with his metal arm; and in several cases, he'd been with groups of fighters that didn't act very quietly. HYDRA had always wanted him to be seen and memorable, so that he would be feared by every spy organization in the world.

Today, he didn't know what or who he was. A large part of his mind screamed that he was Bucky Barnes, a good man whose best friend was Steve Rogers, and that if he really wanted to, he could be that same man again, if he tried hard enough.

It was a nice thought, but unrealistic. The part of him that had been programmed to be a killer always tore at the more pleasant idea of being Bucky, and all that remained lingering in his head were the haunting, dead faces of those he had eliminated at HYDRA's command.

Deep down, he knew that he had to learn to put both sides in balance with each other if he was going to try and form any new kind of livelihood. It was almost an impossible task, and he very much hoped that having another human being around, one who wasn't a government agent or a HYDRA operative, would help him sort through the many struggles he knew was coming.

Right here and right now, however, all he knew was that being able to hide himself in a crowd was proving difficult.

He was uncomfortable with following someone everywhere, all while trying to keep her from noticing him. He was dressed casually, so that he seemed to fit in, even if he felt otherwise. Under a brown leather jacket was a plain black T-shirt; a pair of grungy blue jeans, black baseball cap, and sneakers, with brown gloves on to hide his metal hand, completed the outfit. For all intents and purposes, he fit in, physically, at least. Mentally, he wanted to bolt, his mind yelling at him to get under cover until he was sure things were safe.

'_Remember your mission_,' he chanted to himself, as he'd always done before this. It was something constantly told to him by his HYDRA handlers, and it usually helped to get his mind focused on what he was supposed to be doing.

He turned his head slightly, looking out of the corner of his eye as he sipped from his coffee cup. The woman he had chosen, a younger cousin of Adena Rogers, sat filling out a job application in a corner booth of the coffee house, her face scrunched up as she answered the questions on the sheet. It was the fourth one she'd filled out today, in just as many different shops in the area.

The girl, Anita Wallace, was ideal because of this.

After several days of watching and following her as carefully as possible, he had learned a lot about her. Unemployed, single, and living several miles away from friends and family, she was everything he was searching for: an easy target.

'_No, not a target_,' he lectured himself. '_She is not to be thought of as that_.'

People were no longer going to be considered as such by him. They were human beings, and needed to remember that. Thinking of them as anything lower was HYDRA's way, and he wanted none of that any longer. Anita Wallace was a person, and by keeping a safe distance from her, he had learned a great deal.

Anita was a young woman without a job and living in a shared house with a tiny family. She was fortunate enough to occupy the top floor of the split house, and the other occupants had the larger, ground floor, with a door put in for more privacy for both parties. He had once heard her comment to a possible employer that she often babysat the child in order to earn a few extra dollars.

Now, things were looking dire for her. The young couple had taken their child on a long 'family vacation,' and was not due back for several weeks, so she was without any kind of income. Without money, Anita was alone, in a pinch, and anyone who could help her was so busy with their own lives that they would not notice her disappearance until it was too late.

Hiding a smirk behind his large paper cup of coffee, he watched get up and leave, probably heading towards home. It was tempting to follow her, but there were several things he needed to do before putting his plan into action.

Getting up from his corner seat, he tossed a few dollars onto the tabletop and headed out the door, his baseball cap pulled down to keep the bright sunshine off of his face. His motel was several blocks away, but using the backstreets in order to lose anyone who might follow him, it took about half an hour to get there. Fortunately, the walk was pleasant and through a nice neighborhood, so he didn't mind it much.

Halfway to the motel, he knew someone was following him. His senses screamed it, and it took a great deal of restraint to keep his urge to retaliate in check. It could be a child or other young person trailing close out of curiosity, but he doubted it –his senses said that it was an adult, and they had a purpose in mind.

In what felt like an instant, his mind clicked. The ones following him felt like government agents.

He considered panicking, but his assassin mentality fell into place. Panic would serve no purpose. He had to escape, and quickly. As he walked, he quickly considered returning to the motel, but decided against it. There was nothing of importance in his hideout, and nothing, not even a personal computer, to gave away his plans.

Behind him came the sound of two sets of feet, meaning his tail had increased. They knew it would take more than one agent to take him down, whoever they were. He had to act now, before it was too late.

Immediately putting on a burst of speed, he ran, racing along the sidewalks in a random pattern that he hoped would lose those following him. He knew he was fast, and it was incredibly difficult for ordinary people to catch up to him.

Down one sidewalk, across the street, and down another before backtracking on the other side of a block, he thought he was making progress, until something hit his back, sending bolts of electricity into his body.

In a few seconds, he was out.

* * *

Getting hit by electricity was enough to put _anyone_ down for a good while. But thanks to the serum in his veins, for him, it was for a much shorter time.

When he woke to consciousness, he could feel straps wrapped around his body and arms, holding him down to a tall chair. A bright light came from above him, but if he kept his head bowed, it didn't bother him too much. Even the chair didn't bother him; it was heavily cushioned, as though the people who had him were truly concerned about his comfort.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted his eyes a little to assess his surroundings. He couldn't see much, but the cold, slightly dank air in the room told him that he was underground. From the corners of his eyes, he could see a pair of legs clad in the black cloth and shiny black leather shoes that only a government agent wore.

"Good, you're wake," said a male voice that bordered between amused and serious. "Don't try to fake being unconscious, either. I know you're awake, and I know that serum in you makes it so you heal quickly. Come on, look at me; I know you can do that, too."

Ah, so it was HYDRA, then. Only they knew about the serum that had been given to him. And he refused to be their "fist" any longer.

Flexing his metal hand, he was considering how to kill everyone that stood between him and escape when the agent declared, "I'm not HYDRA. I'm SHIELD."

The man once known as 'Bucky' froze. "SHIELD no longer exists," he flatly said, knowing that's what every HYDRA member wanted to hear. It was also the truth; the agency had been disbanded by the United States government. Therefore, it did not exist.

"Technically, that's true," the man said. "But I'm a true and honest SHIELD agent. Actually, I'm probably the truest agent you'll ever meet…Lieutenant Barnes."

'Bucky's' head snapped up, the bright light nearly blinding him as he struggled to look at the other man. No one in HYDRA's ranks called him that! The only ones who had done so were long dead, and there was no one alive today in HYDRA who would ever refer to him by his past identity.

The other man was gazing at him with kind, patient eyes. His head was beginning to bald, though his face did not appear that old. He was smiling kindly, and even though there were hints of many secrets in his eyes, there was no hostility or a sense of superiority that always lurked beneath the mask HYDRA members wore.

The other man nodded. "Yes, I know who you are. I'm Phil Coulson, the new Director of SHIELD; but you can call me Coulson. And I want to help you."

* * *

A second chair was pulled from near the door to the center of the room, and it was there that Phil Coulson sat, leaning back as he revealed what had brought him here. For some reason, the other man seemed insistent on calling him Bucky, rather than anything else.

"It _is_ your name, after all," was the only reason he gave, and 'Bucky' accepted it. For some reason, having someone else address him by name made that identity more real.

"Ever since the incident in D.C., I've had what loyal agents I trust running around the globe, trying to hunt down what HYDRA agents we know about," Coulson told him. "I've even managed to get a few recruits from other government agencies. One of them, a person who I have full faith in, informed me that Captain Rogers was searching for you, so I took a big risk having him track you down for me."

He smiled. "I have to admit, you did pretty well. We didn't even know about you being here, until one of my techs found an unusual amount of activity involving background checks on family members of Adena Rogers."

Damn it, he thought he'd been careful about that! Annoyed with himself, he flexed his arms against the restraints still holding him (for Coulson's safety, of course).

Coulson shook his head. "You might be good at computer systems, but my people are better."

Of course they were, Bucky thought with a small sneer.

"Anyway, we couldn't help but wonder why you wanted one of Mrs. Rogers's family members –or more specifically, why you want one of her female relatives," Coulson commented.

Since there was no way they were going to let him go unless he talked, Bucky reluctantly allowed his plans flow out of his mouth and into the other man's ears.

Normally, such a thing would never have occurred, no matter what sort of torture he was under. However, Bucky had seen that this Agent Coulson truly did want to give him whatever aid he could –anyone else would have simply tortured or killed him by this point. But this man was honest, a trait that Bucky had rarely encountered in his life with HYDRA, and that made him begin to (reluctantly) relax as he spoke.

Though he had always been told that SHIELD was the enemy, he knew differently now. Bucky remembered reading files on high-ranking members of the agency, and he knew that many at HYDRA feared and hated Phil Coulson for his absolute dedication to SHIELD's ideals. Since the two agencies were complete opposites of one another, it was, therefore, safe to assume that the most loyal and true agents of SHIELD would be as good as the HYDRA ones were evil.

And here Coulson was, offering Bucky exactly what he wanted: help. So he let his reasons be known.

For a while, Agent Coulson sat there, giving him a thoughtful look, and during that time, Bucky began to wonder whether or not it had been a good idea to say anything.

Finally, Coulson shifted in his chair and let out a sigh. Looking over his shoulder, he called out, "Enter!"

The door opened, and in walked two individuals that Bucky was very familiar with: Natasha Romanoff, and Clint Barton, two of SHIELD's finest agents.

"Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton," Coulson greeted them. "You heard what he'd said. Tell me, Natasha; does his idea sound feasible?"

Her cool gaze scanned Bucky very closely. "In a way, it does. Adena's a great person, and from what she's told me, she comes from a nice, large family. It would make sense that there would be at least one cousin or family member that has the same sort of personality that she does."

Romanoff shifted on her feet, a move that Bucky knew put several hidden weapons within reach of her fingers. "They also probably grew up listening to stories about Captain America, so they'd have the same general familiarity on the subject of the Captain's past."

'_A past that includes me_,' Bucky thought as Barton voiced, "One that could include info on your own past, Lieutenant Barnes."

Coulson sat in his chair and looked thoughtful again as the two agents openly let their hands linger on the weapons that sat visibly on their belts. After a few moments, he sighed and crossed his arms.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to do what Director Fury did before me," Coulson declared. The two assassin-agents looked at him with mixes of surprise, skepticism, and doubt as he said, "I'm going to have to hire you an educator and constant companion."

Romanoff exchanged a glance with Barton. Even though they gave nothing away, Bucky could sense that they weren't sure about this decision.

"I know it's risky," Coulson admitted, "But you need help. I was going to suggest having someone of Agent Romanoff's caliber do it, but I doubt that having an assassin watch another assassin is a good idea. It more resembles a recipe for disaster."

Agent Barton nodded. "Agreed. They might just attack each other at the wrong time and in the wrong place. The last thing you need is hurt civilians and two possibly dead assassins on your hands."

"That would be very bad, and very messy," Bucky quietly agreed, startling himself and getting a small smile out of Agent Coulson.

"I don't like it," Romanoff flatly told them. "We shouldn't put a girl, a _civilian_ girl, with no training in self-defense, in this kind of situation. Adena was chosen to help Captain America, one of the nicest and best men I'll ever meet. You're putting this girl in reach of a man who was scientifically experimented on _twice_ by HYDRA, and is a known killer! His info is spread all over the Internet –she'll have to know who and what he is. If she's smart, she'll say 'no.'"

Coulson shook his head. "I guess we'll have to find out for sure, then, won't we? I want to talk to her and see how things go from there."

He looked over at Bucky. "Let's test your theory that you'll be more restrained with a regular woman than you would be with a female agent."

Instead of the thrill of victory, Bucky suddenly felt a surge of dread. What if he was wrong about this? What if his idea went completely wary and he ended up hurting an innocent girl, all because of what amounted to a hunch?

But as Agent Barton freed his arms and led him to a small set of living quarters, Bucky didn't say a word in protest.

* * *

AN: Anna will appear in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! Review?


	3. A Reluctant Recruit

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: So, I'm going to do things a bit differently in this story, concerning the new female OC. Instead of it being first-person, from her POV, I'm going to do it from the omniscient third-person POV. I just thought I'd switch it up a bit, but if people would like it switched back, I could do that, later on. Also, I know that after SHIELD was disbanded in the movie and TV show, they lost all their funds and stuff, but I figured that, if they were smart, they probably had stuff tucked away for emergencies (which Fury did on _Agents of SHIELD_), so I'm going off on that theory.

Anyway, please enjoy, and don't forget to review. Thanks!

**Chapter 3: A Reluctant Recruit:**

Heading down the street, Anita Wallace (known as Anna to her friends and family) heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the form of the house she shared. Lucky for her, the Smiths were out of town visiting family, so she had the place to herself for a while.

Once the door had swung shut behind her, she flipped the lock and relished the clean, air-conditioned air that flowed throughout the lower level. Cold air sank, and as such, her rooms on the second level of the divided house were far warmer during the summer. Winter wasn't so bad, but in summer, it was a pain in the butt to get any sleep.

'_If I had the money, I'd get an a/c unit of my own_,' she wishfully thought, breathing in and savoring the coolness.

Unfortunately, she didn't have the money, and from the looks of it, probably wouldn't for a while. She had enough packed away to pay the rent, and get the most basic groceries, but that was pretty much it. Her parents were kind enough to pay for her electricity and Internet service, as well as her half of the water bill, but that couldn't go on forever.

'_And they expect to be paid back, too, once I find a new job_.'

Sighing, she headed up to her half of the house. The downstairs had a wall that had been put up just inside the front door, with its own entry door that locked for the lower apartment, which was also the larger area of the house. The Smiths had locked it when they'd left, but Anna had the spare, so that she could look after (aka: clean) the space until they got back.

That was the only work Anna could find right now: babysitting their baby girl, and tidying up the place whenever they asked for help. The babysitting brought in money; the cleaning she traded in exchange for a free meal or some clothes Leslie Smith didn't need or want anymore.

Unlike most people, Anna had no problems with used clothes –the thrift shops were a favorite place of hers to find all sorts of things, and Leslie had pretty good taste in clothing, so it wasn't too bad of an arrangement.

Sighing, Anna headed up to her half of the building, feet scraping on the wooden staircase. The house was old, built in the Victorian Era, and clearly meant for the smaller people from that century. The downstairs section was taller, so it was easier to move around, but upstairs, the slope of the ceiling was lower than in modern houses.

Still, it was a large space, with the forward area serving as her living room/dining room/kitchen. There was a short hallway leading to a small bathroom with a tub/shower and toilet; beside that was a small bedroom. Anna supposed she could have made the living room area her bedroom, but it had large windows, and she did not relish the idea of accidentally giving people a show while she changed.

Heading over the fridge, Anna pulled out her phone, tossed her purse on the counter, and began scrounging through the fridge as she listened to the messages left by various callers. Working through the Tupperware containers full of meals Leslie had left for her as payment for watching the downstairs apartment, Anna tried to find the six-pack of soda that she'd bought as a treat for herself while the messages played in her ear.

Not all of them were great to listen to. Two were rejection messages from places she's applied to for work, while another was from her mother, asking her to keep on looking. The last message was from her garbage company, asking for their payment a second time.

Groaning, Anna looked at her phone and ended the playback. She wished one of her friends would call, but unlike her, they were working. She briefly considered calling up one of her numerous female cousins for a sympathetic ear, but they were all probably busy –some were considerably younger than her and still in high school, while others were in college, trying to work their way through school.

And as much as they all loved one another, trying to foist her problems onto one of her family members wouldn't be a good idea, not if it got her in trouble with her aunts and uncles. They always called her a 'free spirit' who drifted from one job to another; not like the other girls in the family. Certainly not like her favorite cousin, Adena, who had somehow spun herself from 'steady and reliable' to 'wife of a superhero with a connection to a huge spy agency.'

'_Hey, maybe Adena can get me a job somewhere_.'

Anna shook her head; getting hold of Adena was almost impossible. The whole family was worried sick about her, and she just wouldn't answer their phone calls, no matter how often they called her. It was damn frustrating!

Actually, Anna very much wanted to call up Adena, to see what was going on with her slightly older cousin, but she figured that if anything bad had happened, she'd have gotten word from someone -either from Adena herself, or her husband, the one-and-only Steve Rogers, aka: Captain America.

It still blew Anna's mind that her cousin was married to the superhero of their childhood. Two generations of their family had grown up with stories about the man, and now we were related by marriage. It was something Anna wanted to blab to the whole world about, but thanks to some of the good Captain's friends, none of her family was able to. Agents in black suits and ties, armed with weaponry and iron-clad confidentiality agreements, tend to make even the most avid gossip hold their tongue.

Ironically, it had been Anna who had told the family to ease up a bit when it came to calling up Adena. It had taken a while, but after about a week, she had been able to convince even her folks to stop bothering her cousin. She figured that Adena's parents would have at least some news, and that they'd share what they knew once she contacted them.

Anna was thankful she'd been right. Not long after the whole incident in D.C., they all got an e-mail from Adena, saying that she was fine, and that she and her husband were in one piece. She knew that everyone was worried, so she wanted to assure them about her safety, and that she would let them all know if anything else happened.

The next message they got was that Adena and her husband were heading off to do some work for Stark Industries! She also said that she wouldn't be reachable for a while, and that once she was back, she'd let them all know. That was it.

Of course, that caused a whole slew of problems within the family. The first message had caused floods of calls and e-mails between Adena's parents and everyone else in the family, including Anna. Since she had no idea what was happening, and refused to listen to any of the gossip and speculations being tossed around, she decided to ignore everyone's phone calls and texts on the matter. She even told her mother not to phone her with any of the theories she'd come up with, instead choosing to wait and see what else Adena might tell them.

When she got the second message about her cousin flying off on business for Tony Stark, Anna practically had to tie herself down to keep from begging her cousin to try and get her a job. Adena would have done it, for family's sake, but Anna didn't want to take advantage of her that way.

"My cousin is married to Captain America, and she works for Tony Stark," Anna muttered as she found the pop in the back of the fridge. Pulling out the cold glass bottle, she popped the cap off and took a sip. "How much do I want to bet that she hangs out with the other Heroes of New York?"

When had her cousin's quiet life turned into something that would make a great movie or comic book?

'_And what I wouldn't give to be able to design __**that**__ storyline_,' she thought with a weak smile.

Still, even if she envied the change in her cousin's life, Anna wasn't sure she'd be able to handle the danger and excitement that being attached to superheroes might bring. Heck, she had enough trouble finding a new job –fighting bad guys and aliens would probably make her head explode!

She almost choked on her soda as the doorbell rang, scaring the hell out of her. Who that could be, she had no idea -her parents weren't due for a visit for a 'check-up' on her for a while, and she wasn't expecting anyone. At least she had no creditors (thank goodness); the first thing she always did was pay her credit card bills.

Setting her drink back in the fridge, Anna quietly slipped down the stairs and peeked through the peephole in the door. There stood a man in a black suit and tie, black sunglasses, and a small frown on his face. Beside him was a woman with red hair, a white tank top, black leggings tucked into black boots, and a black leather jacket. Both looked like they meant business –as in, government business.

Hmm, to open the door, or to pretend she wasn't home? She voted for the second one.

"We know you're home, Miss Wallace," the man called through the door. "You might as well open up. We aren't leaving until you do."

He waited for a reply, but got none. "I think your neighbors will have a lot to gossip about if they see us standing here."

Damn it, he was right. Anna's neighbors were mostly young families, and elderly women who loved gossip –the last thing she needed was word to get around that two people who looked like government agents had popped by. Then she'd never get a job!

Heaving a heavy sigh, she reluctantly opened the door to let them in. The woman gave her a brisk nod and stepped in, moving past her and out of the way, allowing the man behind her to follow so that the door could be closed behind him.

To Anna's surprise, the man removed his sunglasses and gave her what looked like a genuine smile. "Miss Wallace," he greeted her as he tucked the glasses away. "I'm Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD. I'm here about a job I'd like to offer you."

* * *

After offering Agent Coulson and his associate (who refused to give her name) a seat, Anna also offered them something to drink. Agent Coulson accepted, though the woman did not. Even though she didn't say much, the redhead looked around with a cool, steady gaze that made Anna uneasy. She also looked super-familiar, too, like Anna had seen her someplace before.

It wasn't until Agent Coulson had started taking a sip of his drink that Anna realized who the woman was. "You're Natasha Romanoff," she gasped, wondering if she should dive for cover. "I saw only a little bit of the Senate trial, but it's you!"

She swallowed hard. "Do you know my cousin? Adena Rogers?"

Natasha's cool façade melted slightly. "I do. She's a good woman, your cousin. She certainly does her best to keep the rest of us in line."

Yup, that was Adena: always looking to make sure people stayed out of trouble. It drove the aunts and uncles crazy when she tried to boss around the little kids, but she only had the best intentions, which was probably why she managed to get away with it. Well, that and she was the oldest, so the adults tended to forgive her rather quickly.

Swallowing hard, Anna took a deep breath and went to retrieve the pop she'd started earlier, taking a few sips to try and steady her nerves. After she'd returned to her own chair and set her bottle on the glass-top coffee table, Anna took a deep breath and tried to stay focused.

"So, after that whole event in Washington, what does that make you, Agent Coulson?" Anna asked as she fiddled with her bottle. "I mean, isn't SHIELD supposed to be disbanded or something?"

The man smiled as he sipped from his glass. "That would make me the head of an organization that many _want_ disbanded. I, however, intend to ignore them."

Anna blinked at him. "You're in charge of SHIELD?" she squeaked. It took a minute before she managed to get herself together again. "You said you were here to offer me a job. Are you asking me to join your agency, Agent Coulson?"

It was crazy. It was stupid, too. The thought of fighting, using guns and possibly hurting other people made her feel sick. She was _not_ agent material.

'_But maybe they need a few people to do their paperwork_,' she thought, pushing aside imaginings of foreign missions and large destructive weapons going off. Paperwork she could handle!

"Well, in a way," he replied. "And you can call me Phil; your cousin does."

That was almost too much. _Adena_ was on a first-name basis with the new head of a super-secret spy organization that the U.S. government wanted disbanded? What other surprises did her cousin have up her sleeve?

Swallowing hard, Anna tried to keep it together. "Then you can call me Anna. Everyone does."

"Okay, then, Anna," Phil said, leaning back on the worn green material of the couch he sat on. "Let me explain what it is we require of you."

* * *

Half an hour later, Anna felt like the conversation that had just happened was something made up by a nightmarish part of her mind. Just thinking about government agents scared her –the idea of potentially being employed by them terrified her.

Luckily, Phil, as he asked her to call him, had been very clear about what it was his organization wanted her to do: to basically help rehabilitate a man who had once been a renowned assassin and killer, and try to get him to become a relatively 'normal' man again.

Anna couldn't decide if he was crazy or not.

"So, you won't take it personally when I say 'no way' to this idea, right?" she asked, looking at the two agents. "I mean, this is beyond bizarre. What if he decides that I'm annoying him at some point and tosses me out a window?"

A billion other death scenarios played through her head, most of them coming from action and spy films she'd seen. If real-life assassins were anything like the ones in the movies, she felt sorry for those on the receiving end of their actions. Phil wouldn't even tell her who she'd be helping, which wasn't a good sign, either, in her opinion.

"We completely understand where you're coming from," Phil said, holding his coffee cup out for a refill of the tea she'd served him. "But we need someone, and right now, there are few people we trust with this kind of issue. The organization that this man once worked for has their own hidden all over, and in every different job field. We need someone we know isn't part of that organization."

Anna gave them a doubtful look as she refilled his cup. "And how do you know I'm not part of that particular organization? I mean, I'm not, but spy stuff is what you guys do. Aren't you always supposed to be suspicious of everybody?"

Natasha shrugged. "Oh, we _are_ suspicious of everybody. The thing is, you're part of Adena's family, and we've been able to assess that none of her family members possess the qualities and personalities that our enemies want."

Phil actually smiled at her. "In fact, you're the complete opposite of what they're looking for in recruits, which is exactly why we want you."

In spite of herself, Anna was a little amused. "So you think I'm too nice and sweet to be evil? I thought those were the kinds of people that you should always watch out for."

Phil managed a small laugh as Natasha smiled a little. "That might have a bit of truth behind it," Phil admitted, "But we have a good feeling about you. We know you've got a close, loving family, and that you're a good person."

"We also know that you're out of work," Natasha bluntly stated. "If you don't find something soon, you'll be broke. Your parents could help, but even that'll have its limits."

Anna knew the redhead was right. She didn't want to know how they knew she was unemployed, but they were right about her current situation -she needed money, and soon. Her parents' generosity could only go so far, and the job market around this moderately-sized town wasn't that great. She had to find work, and here they were, offering what she desperately needed.

There was one thing bothering her, though.

"Who's financing you guys, if the government isn't?" Anna asked. "I mean, someone has to be, if you're going to be paying all of your people, including me."

The two agents exchanged looks. "We've got our ways," Natasha blandly replied. "Now, what do you say? We can probably give you a day or two to think about it, but you do need to hurry."

It was insane, plain and simple, but it was also a god-send. It was also an opportunity to have an adventure and maybe expand her horizons a little, just like Adena had –and she'd ended up marrying Captain America, of all people!

'_I wonder what sort of doors this could open for me_,' Anna thought, her imagination spinning wild for a minute before Natasha burst her bubble.

"And if it doesn't work out, we'll still pay you accordingly for your efforts, and possibly put in a good word for you with Tony Stark."

Oh, now wasn't that the icing on the cake? If this didn't work out (and Anna knew it wouldn't), then at least there was a backup plan. Work for Stark Industries? Her parents would freak out if she brought _that_ news home!

"What about my stuff and my apartment?" she couldn't help asking. As stuffy and old as it was, it was hers, and she'd grown attached to the place.

"You'll be moving to another location, one that's furnished," Phil replied. "We don't have the funds to keep this place for you, but we can put what items you don't require in storage until further notice. You can bring your clothes and some of what you feel you can't live without, but furniture and stuff would mostly be put away."

That put her hackles up. "I don't want to move into a sterile, generic apartment," Anna snapped. "I want a space of my own that's decorated to my taste. I like art and color, not beige or blah surroundings."

Phil looked amused while Natasha seemed a bit skeptical. It looked like Adena hadn't put up much of a fuss when SHIELD got hold of her, but Anna was determined to have her way with this.

"Fair enough," Phil said. "Just try not to overdo it, hmm? That way, you won't have much to pack up again, if it doesn't work out."

That was probably all she was going to get from them, but it was good enough. "Okay, I'll do it," Anna conceded. "Just, give me a little while to make up a story for my parents."

Phil grinned as Natasha reached into her jacket and pulled out a slip of paper. "We're way ahead of you on that one."

Anna sighed. Of course they were. Hurray for government agents.

* * *

AN: Well, there we are with a new OC. Thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review!


	4. Becoming a SHIELD Asset

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: Here's the next chapter! Enjoy, and please don't forget to review! Thanks!

**Chapter 4: Becoming a SHIELD Asset:**

It hadn't been easy, spinning a lie for her folks, but then, they were so thrilled that she had found a nice, good-paying job in New York, they probably didn't care that her 'cover story' of working for the IRS had a few holes in it. They didn't even argue when she said that she started this week, and was moving there as soon as possible.

Yes, her parents thought she was going to work at a government field office in the city where the infamous Battle of New York had taken place. Anna had told them that she would be shuffling through mountains of government paperwork, mostly money claims from folks who had lost businesses and such during the Battle. She would get good pay, benefits, and live in a good part of the city, so there'd be nothing to worry about.

'_Ha, nothing to worry about_,' Anna sarcastically thought as she walked through the halls in her new home.

* * *

The house was a building owned by SHIELD, and one that hadn't been on any of the documents leaked to the Internet. According to all legal and public documents, this building was owned by a legitimate corporation overseas, and had nothing to do with SHIELD.

Anna's move here had been carried out so fast, it was almost a blur. A truck with six movers appeared three days after Anna had accepted her new job. They'd brought packing materials right up to her door, and faster than she had thought possible, they began asking what she wanted to take with her and what she wanted put into storage.

After she had quickly answered their questions, the movers proceeded to wrap up all of the items in her apartment, leaving what would go with her and hauling away what she wanted stored. Her mind still spinning in confusion, she was astonished when a smaller moving truck pulled up with three _different_ movers, this time to take her things to her new home. With it came a large SUV, which would be her ride, and Agent Romanoff, who would be her (armed) escort.

As this organized chaos swirled around her, Anna was thankful that she'd already talked to her parents about her move, otherwise they might have thought she'd up and vanished. She'd also left a quick note inside the Smith's apartment, letting them know what had happened, and that she had slipped their spare key through the mail slot in their door (which she did).

Then came the road-trip to New York.

If Anna had to be honest, it hadn't been that long of a trip; a few days, total, and in a rather comfortable SUV with soft leather seats, so that she could curl up in the backseat and sleep while Natasha drove, nonstop, to their destination. Her escort wouldn't talk to her, but Anna had her phone to keep herself entertained, so it wasn't so bad.

Her arrival in The Big Apple occurred on the third day of travel, and it took a lot to keep her eyes inside her head. New York was a huge, bustling city several times bigger than any she'd ever been in, and watching the sights pass by was a bit much for her small-town brain.

Her new residence was a house at the edge of the city, an area that wasn't quite the suburbs, but not middle-of-nowhere. Instead of being pressed against each other, the homes had a fair bit of space between one another, though there wasn't much of a yard in the front or the back. It was one of those neighborhoods where people kept to themselves if they wanted to, and weren't thought "odd" or "distant" for not interacting with, and being close to, the people living around them.

For Anna, it was a good location. In theory, if she wanted and if she was allowed to head out into the world, she could take a bus or train. There was no car assigned to her, which Anna guessed was also out of Phil Coulson's budget, so she was glad to the access to public transportation.

But while she couldn't complain about the location, the interior of the place left a lot to be desired.

Anna was, by all means, a huge fan of colors, art, and decorating. This place was as bare and stark as anyone could imagine a place to be, and it went against everything she adored. She had to admit that it was well-furnished and looked like it had been recently painted, but everything was either white or beige. It was very boring.

This, of course, meant that only half of her brain was listening to Natasha, while the other half tried to decide which of her precious possessions would go where, in order to brighten up the place. Anna only came back to herself when she felt Natasha slap her hard on the shoulder.

"Ow!" she yelped, clutching her arm. "What was that for?"

"You weren't listening," Natasha calmly replied. "This is important."

Anna quickly squashed the decorating plans forming in her head and focused on the deadly woman before her, fully chastised. She should have known better, and was disappointed in herself for not staying focused.

Once Natasha was sure of her attention, she started again. "I know that much of your family has grown up with stories about Captain America, and about some of his past. I also know that some of the soldiers he saved, and who worked with him, told your grandmother and great-grandmother about things he did and who else he worked with, so you're more familiar with him than most people in the world are."

Anna nodded, wondering where she was going with this. Did the man she was supposed to be helping have something to do with the Captain?

"Are you familiar with a man named James Buchanan Barnes?" Natasha asked, studying Anna's face very closely.

Now, that name _did_ sound familiar. It took a minute for Anna to go back through the dozens of stories that her mom and grandmother had told her over the years, but eventually, she found it. The young man had been called "Bucky" back then, and had been Captain America's closest friend until he'd fallen to his death on a mission in Europe.

Anna's brain ground to a halt. "Wait. Are you saying that the guy I'm supposed to help is Captain America's best friend, a man who _died_ over seventy years ago?"

At Natasha's amused glare, Anna sighed. "Okay, I know the Captain was declared dead, but he had that super-serum in him to keep him from dying. How the hell did Bucky Barnes survive that fall?"

"HYDRA," Natasha said, a shadow forming in her eyes. "They're a lot like the Nazis during WWII, in that they want to take over the world and make it over according to their own desires. In fact, they were formed by the Nazis.

"To cut the whole matter short, they got hold of Barnes early in the war, and performed experiments on him until the Captain rescued him. We're guessing that they gave him their own version of the super-serum, and that's what saved him from death after his fall."

It took a second for Anna to follow that line of thought. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that HYDRA found him not long after that fateful day."

Natasha nodded. "They brainwashed and experimented on him _again_, eventually turning him into a killer known as The Winter Soldier. He became their best assassin, and has performed numerous kills over the decades. His memories only started flooding back after he tried to assassinate Captain Rogers, and Rogers called Barnes by his nickname from the past.

"During the fight in D.C., the Winter Soldier, as he was called, began to remember tiny bits and pieces of his life. He even went to the Smithsonian for information, but it wasn't enough. He wants to remember things from the 1940's, and unlock whatever memories are still there, to get back some of the man he used to be. He knows he'll never fully be Bucky Barnes again, but if there's a chance he can recover a little of that former life, he wants to try."

"But I'm not psychiatrist," Anna protested, wringing her hands in panic. "That's what he needs now, more than ever! Or if he doesn't want to see a shrink, he should at least try and hook up with Captain Rogers. At least he could help jog the guy's memories!"

"Both of those ideas could go two ways," Natasha told her. "A psychiatrist could help, but he or she might start asking questions that Barnes might not be able to answer, either because he doesn't know how, or have the patience to. That could lead to him having problems with his temper."

"So what am _I_ supposed to do?" Anna retorted impatiently. "How am I supposed to help someone who has no idea who he is and has in fact lost most of his humanity?"

Natasha looked her dead in the eyes, the coldness of her expression freezing Anna where she stood. "What he _needs_ is someone to be there for him; a nice, normal person who can ease him into a steady way of life. He might even talk to you about his feelings, thoughts, and perhaps nightmares, which is what he also needs. Just try to set up a routine for him, talk to him about anything _except_ killing people, and try to get him to remember his past. Don't push too much; just try and be gentle when it counts, and if he loses his temper, walk away and lock yourself in your room until you think he's calmed down."

"How is locking myself in my room going to help?" Anna huffed, her hands waving frantically towards the upstairs. "_He's a trained assassin_!"

The redhead shrugged. "The room is reinforced on levels a normal one isn't. He shouldn't be able to break through, unless he's in a major killing rage."

Anna rolled her eyes. "You mean like the Hulk?"

Natasha's eyes turned shadowy again. "No; I don't think anyone could turn out like the Hulk when they're in a violent mood."

Deciding that the Hulk was a bad line of conversation to continue on, Anna tried to stay on topic. "So if things go bad, I hide out in my room until I feel safe to come out, or until he apologizes?"

At Natasha's nod, Anna stood and fumed. "Well, that's just great. _Why_ did you guys decide to pick me again?"

"Because you're a good person we know we can trust with this," Natasha reminded her. "And because Barnes feels that he is less inclined to harm a female when he loses his temper. Something inside him wants someone who will probably have more sympathy and a gentler touch."

That made no sense in Anna's mind, but if he felt he wouldn't hurt her, then she might be able to have faith in that. "But how am I going to defend myself if things go bad?" she meekly asked, fear turning her insides to jelly.

"You don't," Natasha quietly told her. "You aren't a target for him; you're going to be his friend and companion. If you try and fight, he's going to want to fight back. If things get rough, you can try and calm him down; however, if that fails, get to your room. There's an escape latch on the window with an escape ladder that you can unroll and use to get out, if you need to."

Anna followed her gaze to a door at the rear of the house. "That's a back pantry with a window that leads out to the side yard. That window also has an emergency latch, so that you can get out in a hurry. If you need it, there's a stash of money and a cell phone under the top drawer in your bedside table nearest the window. There's another stash under the bottom shelf in the pantry, closest to the window.

Natasha reached into her jacket and produced a cell phone and a pre-paid credit card. "These are yours. The kitchen and pantry are fully stocked, but when they run out, use the card to have food and necessities delivered here. _Don't_ let the delivery person in –haul everything in yourself. You can also use the card to buy whatever items you need that you forgot or have stored away. The card will be reloaded the first and fifteenth of every month.

"All three cell phones have direct dial numbers to me, Phil, and an associate of ours, Clint Barton. You call Phil or Barton only if you're in trouble; you call me if you need someone to talk to. _Do not_, under any circumstances, contact Adena unless there're no other options. We can't risk having her and Rogers rush here on a whim -they're busy doing other things."

Not being a complete idiot, Anna had a feeling that 'other things' included looking for Bucky. She knew that there was no way Steve Rogers was going to let his long-thought-dead best friend drift around, alone in the world. While it made sense that Barnes needed a support system, Anna knew that system ought to include Steve Rogers.

"Barnes will be here in a few days," Natasha said, surprising her. "Get comfortable, plan things out, and prepare yourself. There's a fully loaded laptop computer on the desk in your room that activates with a fingerprint scan, for security purposes. There's more generic computer for Barnes in his quarters, which are on the other side of the house, as far away as possible from yours. You can familiarize yourself with the information we've provided you. Also, learn the ways in and out of the house, and _don't_ let Barnes know about the secret escape from your room. Understand?"

At Anna's nod, Natasha turned and left her alone, her mind spinning at whether or not it had been a good idea to accept this job after all.

* * *

That had all been several days ago, and so far, she hadn't even met the man she was supposed to be helping, Bucky Barnes.

The waiting was starting to grate on her nerves, as she wasn't sure if she could handle the whole situation she'd gotten herself into. Part of her screamed to just forget the whole thing and go back home, but how could she do that? She had no money –she hadn't even started working yet, so she hadn't been paid anything. And how was she supposed to move her belongings back, with no money for a truck?

Well, technically, she could use the credit card she'd been given, but she didn't feel comfortable using money she hadn't rightfully earned. Plus, what if Coulson found out, and hauled her in for stealing from SHIELD? She might end up disappearing into some sort of secret government prison, never to see the outside world again.

There was, unfortunately, no choice but to stay.

Once she'd resigned herself to staying, Anna had decided to unpack, getting to work on opening her boxes and intent on decorating her new bedroom, at the very least. The beige walls in her own private sanctuary now had colorful drapes of fabric; her desk and tables had carvings her uncle had made for her that were painted bright colors; and all sorts of drawings painted by her mother and grandmother littered the walls.

'_It pays to have artists in the family_,' she thought with a smile as she brewed a cup of tea.

There were also splashes of color that she had tossed around the other rooms of the house. In the living room, a painting from another uncle hung on the wall above the fireplace; on various tables or shelves were colorfully painted wood carvings from numerous craft fairs she'd attended. Some small, inexpensive glass vases lined the mantle, catching the sunlight and sending off patches of color around the room.

The dining room had a vibrant square of red cloth on the moderately sized, rectangular dining table, and on the small side cabinet, she had placed a bright green square bit of cloth. In the center of the side table, she placed a light purple vase that she had picked up at a flea market for cheap. The vase stood empty, but it was still a nice touch. The cloths and vase enhanced the dark woods the furniture pieces were crafted out of.

On the opposite side of the house, under the stairway to the second floor, was a small study. Here, the walls were simply empty and white, so Anna had decided to hang a few pictures of the sea or of water splashing on the shores of the Great Lakes. She also hung a few yards of blue fabric (leftover from an aunt's failed attempt to make her own skirts) over the walls and windows, making the room calm and soothing. There was a set of bookshelves, a desk and a chair, but all stood empty. Rather than use the space, Anna decided to keep her own book collection and computer in her room, just in case.

'_If Bucky decides he wants to use the study, that's fine with me_.' Maybe the blue would help him calm down if he was close to losing his temper.

There was an entertainment room with a TV, complete with theater system, but Anna left that space alone. It was furnished with a brown leather couch, a recliner, and a wood coffee table with a pretty wooden bowl in the middle –it was simple, but elegant, which was all it really needed.

She'd also done a bit of extra reading into a few other files on the laptop provided to her. The house was specially designed so that no one could hear what was going on inside, and those inside would be isolated from the noise and disturbances happening around them. It was like living inside of a bubble, or some kind of science experiment –or worse, some kind of twisted reality show.

'_It also makes it difficult to scream for help if an assassin is trying to kill me_,' Anna sarcastically told herself.

A knock suddenly sounded on the door, startling her. She hadn't been expecting any visitors, except for one…

Swallowing hard, Anna left her tea on the counter and headed for the door, stopping herself before she turned the lock. This was it: a moment of truth. If she failed, she'd probably be dead. But if she succeeded, who knew what that would mean for her future?

Peeking through the peephole, Anna saw a man in his mid- or late-twenties, his hair pulled back in a rough ponytail tucked under a baseball cap. In spite of the rough patch of stubble on his face, she recognized him from past photos her grandmother had shown her, as well as the images on her computer.

The man outside was Bucky Barnes, and he looked as uneasy as she felt.

Part of her said to keep the door shut, but she knew that he had to have a key to get in. He was probably knocking out of pure courtesy, so that he didn't scare her. It was a nice gesture, and she was going to have to reciprocate.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

* * *

AN: Review?


	5. Roommates

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: I know, I was mean for the cliffhanger last chapter, but here they are, meeting for the first time. Please enjoy, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!

**Chapter 5: Roommates:**

He had been anxious the entire week, waiting for the day when he could try Phil Coulson's experiment of reintegrating himself back into the world.

During that time, Bucky had been holed up in a bland, windowless, isolated room under the careful watch of Clint Barton, who always had a weapon handy and probably never slept. But in spite of the constant guard, things weren't too bad –he had food, clean clothes, and another person to keep him company, even if he was a fellow assassin.

Bucky had spent those seven whole days trying to push through the doubts that were setting in –namely the fear that this wouldn't work, and that he might unintentionally hurt the young woman he had chosen to help with his current situation.

The fear was what got to him the most. Under the direction of HYDRA, fear was something he had been unfamiliar with –his entire being had been focused on the tasks given to him by his superiors, who he obeyed without question. He'd never been afraid, never felt any emotion other than intense determination and the desire to make a successful kill.

Now he was terrified –parts of his previous personality were starting to show through, as well as a sense of morality and ethics that had been foreign to him until now. Oddly enough, those flashes of his former self were what had gotten him into the habit of calling himself by his former nickname. He had been calling himself 'Bucky' since before he'd met Agent Coulson, but as things slowly came back to him, it was making that former identity become more firmly lodged in his mind.

But even as he felt that he was Bucky Barnes, he knew there was still so much that he couldn't remember and didn't know about himself to truly feel comfortable in taking up the entirety of his past life.

Agent Barton was of little help in regards to Bucky's blocked memories, but the SHIELD agent was a superb sparring partner whenever the two of them were bored, or when Bucky had the urge to vent some of his frustrations. An hour of trying to beat the hell out of each other was the norm, though if Bucky was extremely agitated, Barton would take him to a small gymnasium-type room where Bucky could maim a punching bag (or three) to make himself feel better.

At last, just when he thought he'd start beating down the walls, Barton got word from Agent Romanoff that things were ready to go.

* * *

Bucky hadn't known what to expect, but this wasn't it. "I'm going to live here?" he asked Barton, staring up at the structure.

"That's right," Barton declared, following his line of sight. "Nice place."

Bucky had to agree. It was a two-story house, with a nice walkway leading up to several steps and a small porch with a solid wood door. There were broad windows in what he guessed was a living room, but the curtains were drawn, so he couldn't see inside.

Not that it mattered. Bucky could already tell that this was far nicer than any place he had ever stayed in during his time with HYDRA. The only places he had stayed in were run-down motel rooms, abandoned buildings, and hideouts that could easily pass as prisons (or were actually abandoned prisons). If he wasn't staying in one of those, he was back at a HYDRA base, being prepped for another mission.

"There's a piece of luggage for you in the trunk. It's got the usual necessities, like a hairbrush, toothbrush, and that sort of thing, but it's also got some books, and enough clothing to last you two weeks," Barton said, catching Bucky's attention. "After that, you'll either need to do laundry, or go buy new ones."

Bucky turned around in time to see Barton holding a credit card. "This is for your personal use. Miss Wallace has one of her own, but it's got more money on it, since it's supposed to be for both of you, and it'll be refilled more often. If you use it wisely, it'll last you month or two."

Nodding, Bucky took the card and tucked it into a breast pocket on his black jean jacket. He was still getting used to using plastic cards instead of cash –under HYDRA, he hadn't exactly had the need for money.

Barton clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If you need anything, let us know. There's a cell phone in the bag with your clothes. Good luck, Barnes."

Nodding, Bucky took a deep breath and opened the door of the car, heading to get his bag. It was time for his reeducation to begin.

* * *

The minute Anita Wallace opened the door, Bucky could see the uneasiness and fear in her eyes. She feared him, and rightly so –she knew nothing about him, other than whatever details of his dark past SHIELD had told her, and that was more than enough to make any other girl head for the hills.

For a minute, they stood there, staring at each other as they sized each other up. After a while, Bucky grew uneasy -and when he grew uneasy, he always grew agitated. Finally, he broke the silence. "Can I come in?" he quietly asked, not looking her in the eye.

"Oh!" she gasped, as if she hadn't realized what she'd been doing. "Oh, of course; come in."

He stepped into the house and looked around as the door closed behind him. It was much nicer in here than any other place he remembered staying in. Through a partially open door to the left, he could see a theater room, with a large plasma television and sound system. To the right was a large living room leading to what he assumed was a dining room. There was undoubtedly a kitchen in the back, and in the far left side, he could see two doorways: one in a wall running under the staircase that led to the second floor, and the other across from it. He was going to bet that one of those rooms was a bathroom, though what the other room was, he could only guess.

From where he stood, Bucky could look up the stairs and see a door immediately off the stairway on the left, which stood wide open. A short hallway led to the right. Whichever one led to Anita's bedroom, he would have to remember to stay away from there –she deserved to have her own personal place, away from him.

"Um, the room to the left of the stairs is yours," she muttered shyly, not looking at him in the eye. "You're welcome to put your things there." She gave a shallow swallow. "I'm making some tea, if you'd like some."

He almost sagged in relief. That she was being so calm and hospitable showed she was willing to give this situation of theirs a chance. Instead of showing his relief, however, Bucky kept himself together and decided to make a polite reply.

"Tea sounds good," he muttered as he made his way towards the stairs. "Thank you."

The bag in his hand seemed to grow heavier with every step he took up to his new quarters, and when he got there, he set it down while rubbing his eyes with the other. The metal arm that had replaced his left limb was covered by his coat and a glove, to keep from alarming his roommate; the leather was soft as could be, so that it wouldn't irritate his skin if he rubbed his eyes or face.

Opening his eyes, Bucky looked around and took in the room. There was a large bed, a desk by a window, two bedside tables with a lamp on each of them, a large dresser in the far corner, a door he presumed led to a closet, and a modest bookshelf that presently stood empty. On his immediate left was a door that led to a full bathroom that had towels and toiletries waiting for use.

Deciding to get to it, he knelt to open the duffle bag. Inside were about a dozen shirts, several pairs of pants and jeans, a few belts, and three pairs of shoes; everything was on the casual side, with the exception of a pair of dress slacks, a pair of black leather shoes, and a collared shirt.

In less than fifteen minutes, he was finished and downstairs. He found Anita at the dining table, an empty cup before her as she stared out the window. To keep from startling her, Bucky cleared his throat, which still caused her to jump.

"Wow, that was quick," she said with a weak smile. "I put the kettle on a low heat, to keep the water warm. There are a few different choices for tea, so I decided to let you pick which one you'd like best. There's a cup by the stove for you."

He'd grown fond of tea during his time with Barton –the SHIELD agent had introduced him to the "good stuff," which was vastly different from the sludge his HYDRA handlers had given him. Of them all, he preferred something with lemon and a lot of honey.

Quickly brewing up his own beverage, he took a seat at the table, directly across from Anita. "So," he said quietly, "You are Anita Wallace."

"Anna, actually," she said. "My real name is so much like my cousin Adena's that I quickly adopted a nickname."

At his puzzled expression, she explained, "I'm only a tiny bit younger than Adena is. While my mom was pregnant, she liked Adena's name so much that she decided to pick something similar to it. A nickname was sort of a necessity."

She smiled a little. "I don't mind, though. There are worse things that people could call me."

Bucky actually felt himself smile a little as he felt his façade give way a bit. "Yes, there are," he whispered in quite agreement, eyes looking down at his cup.

After a bit of an awkward pause, he looked up when he heard Anna say, "I hope you like the room, though I'm afraid it's rather bland and stark."

She gave him an apologetic look, as though it were all her fault, even if it wasn't. "If you like, I can always order things for you to decorate it with."

He looked at her in surprise, even as her own gaze turned downwards. She would do that for him? Such a kind gesture was unheard of for someone like him –still, in his state of mind, he couldn't remember experiencing many kind gestures.

"We can't do much, at first," Anna suddenly blurted out, her fingers fiddling with her mug. "I don't know what your tastes are, and we wouldn't want to go overboard by blowing our whole budget on decorating. But you should at least have some things in your room that make you more comfortable."

"Thank you," he softly replied. "I would appreciate that."

They sat in silence once more, sipping their tea for a good ten minutes as the quiet stretched between them. It was, as expected, an awkward silence, but they managed to finish their drinks somewhat comfortably. Anna, to his surprise, stood and offered to take his cup to the kitchen so that he could rest upstairs, if he wanted.

Bucky shook his head. "I'm not tired."

Anna took a deep breath as she picked up his cup. "Well, I guess we can get started, then. Why don't you go sit in the living room, and I'll come join you?"

He watched closely as she made her way to the kitchen, a troubled look on her face. It was an expression he was used to seeing, especially on people he was supposed to work with –they always feared that they might become the focus of his temper or the end of his gun.

The sound of metal expanding caught his attention -his left hand was clenched tightly, as it usually did whenever his anger started rising. With it came the sounds of the internal components of the arm getting ready to take a swing at someone or something. Those were usually followed by the screams of panic and terror that echoed through his mind, even as he reached out to-

"Bucky?" a soft, female voice asked, shocking him back to the present.

His head snapped up, eyes slightly wild as he looked for where the voice had come from. A few precious seconds went by before he realized that it was Anna, and she appeared trapped between concern and fear.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," she quietly said. "Are you okay? You look like something's bothering you."

They both waited as he took several deep breaths in a vain effort to calm down. "I'm alright," he tried to assure her.

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded all the same. "Okay. I'm going to go set up in the living room, then. You can join me when you're ready."

Bucky swallowed hard, his mind struggling to come to grips with his new living situation. After all the dangerous things he had done, sharing a house with a woman he knew nothing about (outside of stalking her and reading her personal information) was clearly out of his league.

'_I should tell Coulson that this is a bad idea after all_. _I don't want to hurt Anna –she's an innocent_.'

He then realized that, in a way, this experiment of his was already working. He hadn't become violent when he'd gotten upset, and now his primary concern wasn't trying to kill someone, but to keep them from getting killed by his own hands.

'_I'll give it a few months_,' he decided, eyes drifting towards the doorway that led to the living room. '_If I hurt Anna in any way, I'll let Coulson or Barton know, so they can get her out of here._'

It was the least he could do for her.

But if he was going to gain Anna's trust in any kind of way, he would have to trust her with a few of his own secrets, first.

* * *

The man in the next room was nothing like the man she had heard about for so many years of her life. Anna had seen photos of Bucky Barnes, and from what she could see, he was, and yet wasn't, the man she had learned about.

Oh, he still looked the same, save for the longer hair and the stubble, but there was a deep pain in those clear, bright blue eyes that hurt her down to her soul. Natasha had said that he'd been brainwashed and experimented on by HYDRA, which was basically SHIELD's opposite, but Anna knew that worse things had been done to him.

'_He's been tortured_,' she thought, horrified by the realization.

If that were the case (and she had no doubts that it was), then there was no possible way that she could ever imagine the things he had gone through. And given that he hadn't aged a day since he'd disappeared, HYDRA had to have done some pretty horrible things to keep him looking like this for so long.

'_Either that, or they stuck him in a cryogenic chamber_.' Anna remembered hearing her uncles and father talking about it from some kind of book they'd read recently. But other than that, there really was no other explanation for Bucky's youth, especially after seven decades.

Lord, it _did_ sound like a science fiction book, didn't it? Or some kind of spy or psychological thriller, perhaps?

Sighing, she picked up the laptop that Natasha had provided and brought up the most basic materials on Bucky that she had found on it. The more detailed, top-secret stuff could only be activated through a series of fingerprint entries and facial features scan, which she did not want to provide –not when the subject was in the very next room.

The sound of heavy footsteps drew her attention to the door and the tall man who stood there, clearly unsure of what to do next. She could tell that he wanted to come in, but didn't want to do so unless she invited him, though she had already asked him to join her.

"Come on in," she said, patting the sofa seat beside her. "Take a seat."

He hesitated. "I need to show you something, first. I need you to know about it, so that you fully realize what you're dealing with."

At those words, a shiver ran down her spine. Should she be scared right now? Was he going to demonstrate the different ways he knew how to kill someone, so that she could plan her future escape (or funeral) accordingly?

To her surprise, he reached up and pulled off his black jacket, taking the black leather glove on his left hand with it. When she saw the gleam of metal, she gasped.

_He had a metal arm_!

"Oh, my god," she whispered as he slowly moved towards her, offering her the gleaming, false limb. Why hadn't Natasha mentioned that detail?

'_She probably figured I'd make a run for it after I found out_,' Anna thought bitterly as she took in the sight. And maybe she would have, but Anna knew that she had the right to know about something like this!

Even though the sight of it made her uneasy, Anna had to admit that it was like nothing she had ever seen before. Thanks to the black tank top he was wearing, Anna could see that the entire metallic shell of the arm went straight from his fingers all the way to his shoulder, and a little further. The metal seemed to form into the flesh, and from where she sat, Anna could see that there were at least a dozen veins, large and small, running from his torso under the metal arm. She wondered whether his entire left arm was gone, or if there was something for the false limb to fit onto.

"You have questions," he flatly stated. "I can see it in your face."

Yes, she did, and they were too many to count. Rather than blurt them all out, she again motioned towards the seat next to her. This wasn't supposed to be about her –it was about him. She was supposed to help him, and this was as good a chance as any to get things rolling.

"Why don't you tell me about it, instead of having me flood you with questions?" She gave him a shaky smile. "It'll give you a chance to work on conversation skills, and interacting with people."

He looked unsure as to whether she was being sincere or not, but after appearing to think about it, he did as she asked. It was then that she got a full, good look at his arm, including the large red star that appeared to be engraved into the left bicep. As her eyes darted from the upper arm down to his hand, she watched in amazement as the fingers moved, just like the real thing.

"From the little I remember, I lost my arm after I fell during my last mission with the Allied Forces," Bucky softly explained. "HYDRA's agents found me in the frozen tundra, my memories gone or damaged by the fall, and took me to one of their bases. There, they operated on me, removing the diseased parts of my arm and attaching this one to replace it.

"Back then, the technology for such a thing was limited, but they still somehow managed to make it function like a real arm. They told me I was to be their new weapon, an assassin that would remove the ones who stood in the way of HYDRA's plans for Earth's future."

Anna swallowed hard, not sure if she wanted to know what kind of world those people had in mind.

"In order to preserve my youth and keep me under control, they kept me 'on ice.'" Bucky looked at his hand and wiggled his fingers. "They only brought me out to upgrade my arm, give me a bit of an update on current events, and instruct me on my next assignment."

He swallowed heavily. "When I was out of the ice chamber, they treated me like an animal. I suppose, in a way, I was –I attacked when they told me to, and did as they ordered, obeying without much thought of doing otherwise. Since my past memories were gone, I had only HYDRA's orders to hold on to, so I did whatever they wanted."

There was a pause. "Then they told me they wanted Captain America eliminated. I'm sure you heard about how a fight had broken out on a freeway in Washington D.C."

Anna's throat went dry. She'd heard about the fight between her cousin's husband and a masked assailant, and had heard that the Captain had been taken in by SHIELD operatives, in order to "keep him safe." Clearly that hadn't been true, but she hadn't made the connection between the assailant and Bucky –until now.

"That was you?" she whispered, once again wondering if she was safe from him. If he'd gone after his former best friend, what would he do to her?

He nodded, obviously ashamed of what he had done. "I didn't know who he was, then. HYDRA had ordered me to eliminate him at any cost, so I knew that he had to be important. I'd even looked forward to it, since I'd always been told that the Captain was an enemy of HYDRA and its late leader, Red Skull. So when they gave me this challenge, I accepted it without question.

"I hadn't expected any difficulty with this assignment, but things seemed to go wrong from the start. We hadn't counted on the Captain having friends with him, or that those friends would be so skilled in fighting. Things were louder and more chaotic than anticipated, but after a hard fight, I still managed to get the Captain alone."

"During my hand-to-hand fight with him, I discovered that he was as well-trained as I was. The fight was almost brutal, and just as I felt I was about to win, Agent Romanoff fired on me with a weapon which knocked my mask off. That was when he recognized me and called out the name 'Bucky.'"

The haunted look that flashed in his blue eyes struck a chord inside Anna's heart. She'd never seen anyone look so tired and scared. "And after you heard that name again, your memories started coming back?" she gently asked, trying to keep him talking.

He nodded. "I felt as though I were lost in a fog. Vague memories, thoughts, feelings, and questions filled my head to the point of me shutting down entirely. When I didn't respond to the command of my superiors, they strapped me into a machine so that they could wipe my memories. In the past, if I ever gave the slightest inclination that I was going to disobey, they would strap me to a chair and send electric currents into my brain, trying to erase any bit of resistance.

"But these memories were too strong, even for their machines to deal with. Since then, I've been trying to recover even the tiniest fraction of the man I once was."

He looked at his left hand as though it were a curse -or worse, a symbol of who he had become and what he had lost forever. Watching the torment in his eyes, Anna decided to put aside her fear and take a chance.

She reached out and put her right hand onto the back of his left. "I could tell you that I'm sorry for what you've been through, and try to assure you that everything will be okay. But I won't, because it won't do any good –not right now. You've literally been through hell, and are still going through it, though you're doing your best to recover."

Her fingers gently pressed against the metal in a feather-light squeeze. "All I can say is that I'm going to try my best to help you. I don't know if I can, but I'm going to give it my best shot. At worst, we'll be able to put up with one another; at best, we'll become friends."

She smiled at him. "What do you think, Bucky?"

He stared down at the fingers on his hand, like it was something incredibly fragile he was afraid would break if he moved. As the silence stretched on, she thought that maybe he wasn't going to speak, perhaps because she had pushed too hard.

Then his hand turned over and gently closed over hers. "I would like that…Anna."

* * *

AN: Review?


	6. Open Doors

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: Here's the next chapter, with a bit more bonding between the two. Enjoy, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!

**Chapter 6: Open Doors:**

After their first meeting, there was, as Anna expected, a _lot_ of tiptoeing around in the days that followed Bucky moving in.

While they had somewhat developed a quiet sort of understanding, there was still a great deal that they didn't know about one another.

'_To start with, I know nothing about him, other than what I've read in the files Coulson provided_,' she thought to herself as she stared at her computer screen.

It would help if she knew things she felt were important, such as his likes and dislikes; his favorite foods; and more importantly, a way of telling whether or not he was going to fly off the handle and start wrecking the place.

That last one was probably the most important.

If she could just get him to open up, even a little, it might get things flowing a bit between them. If she managed to form a small crack in the wall that stood between them, Bucky would have the opportunity to start coming out of his shell. That would be a huge step forward for him, and it would allow him to begin the long journey that lay ahead.

Sighing, Anna sat back and let her eyes drift to the wall above her computer. '_Easier said than done_,' she thought with a wince.

So far, they hadn't done much. Anna had given Bucky a tour of the house, but didn't tell him about the escape routes she had planned out, or about the emergency bundles left for her by Natasha. He seemed pleased with the layout, and by the fact that he had his own room stationed on the other side of the house, away from hers.

She couldn't help but smile a little. It was touching, knowing that he was concerned for her safety.

'_He's not rehabilitated yet, though_,' she reminded herself. '_We've still got an enormous amount of work to be done_.'

He may have been a brainwashed assassin and killer, but Anna was more than willing to take his concern for her as a good sign of things to come –well, for the moment, at least.

'_But in order for us to make progress, we've got to get started_.'

After giving him a tour and suggesting that he take a few days to rest, Anna had left him by the door of the theater room while she went to her bedroom to try and form a plan. That had been three days ago, and since then, they hadn't seen much of one another.

Like a number of young people, Anna liked to sleep late, often getting up after nine o'clock in the morning. By the time she went downstairs for breakfast, there were dirty dishes already stacked in the dishwasher, a faint scent of coffee in the air, and no Bucky. Clearly, her charge was an early riser.

She had tried approaching his door, if only to check on him, but she got the feeling he wouldn't answer her knock, and maybe even tell her to go away, so she simply returned to her room. She only came out to eat and stretch her legs a bit. She would have checked to see if he was hungry, but there were always some dirty dishes waiting in the sink whenever she went down for her own meals, so Bucky was clearly taking care of himself in the food department.

After her meals, Anna had started to try and work out how to help Bucky with the resources she had on hand. She had begun several different plans and ideas on how to help him, spending hours a day on them, only to delete them and start again.

Today was no exception, except for the fact that instead of working out a plan, she was letting her brain drift towards where they were at and how they were living.

They were in a good neighborhood, with a nice space between houses for privacy, and a yard in the front and back of the house. While neither yard was very large, it was nice to have a bit of greenery to look at.

It was while she was staring out her window, her eyes gazing into the backyard, that Anna realized that she and Bucky were in a weird sort of situation. As great as this place was, the house was basically a prison, an idea that had started to anger her at first, until she realized that Natasha and Agent Coulson hadn't specifically ordered her and Bucky to remain indoors _all_ the time.

Still, they couldn't be risked going out, not when Bucky was practically a wanted man by a lot of world governments. Secrecy would have to be their best friend for a while, at least until they felt secure enough to go outside without causing problems. That meant, in the meantime, they would have to find other ways to keep themselves occupied.

That sparked a bit of an idea inside her spinning brain. Bucky would no doubt hate being cooped up here; she needed to get him a source for exercise, or some way to burn off any excess energy that serum inside him might make.

'_Taking him to a public gym would be a bad idea_,' she reasoned, tapping a finger on her desk. '_He can't be exposed to crowds yet. He needs more time to adjust and get used to being around people_.'

She tapped out a random rhythm on the wood, considering her options. '_There's that study downstairs. We could move the desk and stuff out, and put in a punching bag, some weights, or even a treadmill for him to run on_.'

For the rest of his problems, Anna had no real idea on how to proceed. She could try a formulated approach, with everything laid and planned out, but she doubted that it would do much good. She knew _what_ she had to teach him; she just didn't know _how_.

'_I'm not teaching a college course to young adults_. _This man is violent, unpredictable, and lost, mentally and emotionally. It is clearly an entirely new and unique situation_.'

Heaving another sigh, she closed her eyes and continued to tap out a rhythm on her desk. _'I'm supposed to help this poor man remember his past, and teach him to be somewhat comfortable around others. He might end up choosing a life away from civilization in the end, but as long as we live in a populated area, he's going to have to learn to stay civilized, and not be violent unless it's necessary_.'

Well, since he was rather volatile, Anna figured she'd have to just wing it, doing everything on a day-by-day, situation-by-situation basis. It was rather more chaotic than how she was used to doing things, but that was how things were, then she'd change along with it.

Right now, though, she needed to get Bucky to come out of his room and talk to her.

* * *

Pacing his room, Bucky struggled to keep himself together. He ached to get out and do something, but didn't dare take the risk –there was a chance he would forget himself and end up hurting or killing Anna, who did not deserve it. As much as he wanted to reform himself, the idea of hurting another person was not an appealing one.

So, for the past several days, Bucky had locked himself away in his room as much as possible. He only left to stretch his legs, and get something to eat from the kitchen, which was remarkably easy, since Miss Anna Wallace kept to her room as much as he did with his. So, keeping his stomach full was a breeze.

Keeping himself from boredom, however, was something else entirely.

There were some books he had brought with him, gifts from Agent Barton and Director Coulson, but he had already finished two of them. He had tried exercising by pacing the room, doing pushups, and even filling his duffle bag with heavy objects and lifting it with one or both arms, to keep up his strength.

By now, he was getting stir-crazy. If he didn't do something soon, he would probably end up putting a fist through a wall.

And, dare he say it: he was actually feeling a bit lonely.

That last thought completely surprised him -in all the years he had served HYDRA, he had never actually felt alone or lonely. Every time he had been sent out on a mission, he had been so focused on the task at hand that he'd never felt much emotion, or thought of anything other than his mission. He hadn't had time to feel the loss of companionship or the desire to be around others.

Even on the missions where he had been with a group of fighters, he hadn't had any longing to become friends or make 'friendly conversation' with them. They'd all had work to do, and idle chit-chat had not been an option for any of them. The only thing they talked about was their assignment; nothing more.

But things were different now, and though he was reluctant to admit it, Bucky could feel himself slowly becoming human again. It seemed that his old self was beginning to emerge, like a tiny plant growing from a seed that had been kept in the dark for too long. That it was beginning to break through was a good sign.

Too bad it terrified him.

'_Being around others means that other people will get hurt when I get upset_,' he thought, insides quaking from fear and anger. '_I don't want to hurt anymore people_.'

It was a vicious cycle: he wanted to be around people, but he was afraid of hurting them. That fear led to frustration, which led to anger at being alone. That only made his loneliness even deeper, which made him want to be around others. Then the whole thing went around again, a never-ending loop that just made him want to scream out loud for it to stop and for someone to do something, anything, to make it stop.

His metal hand had just clutched into a fist when a soft knock sounded on his door.

Blinking, he felt his body jerk, his anger quickly giving way to surprise, confusion, and, finally, curiosity. It was his curiosity that got the better of him, and caused his fist to unclench as he went to the door.

There stood Anna, a tentative smile on her face as she clutched a small laptop to her chest. It took a moment for him to read her –she was borderline shy/scared, but as she looked at him, there were a dozen questions in her eyes, where he also saw a glint of determination.

For a second, he felt the urge to smile at her boldness. Then it was gone, and all that remained was a confused frown and a tilt of the head as he stared at her.

"Yes?" he softly asked, attempting to be polite.

It was better than any response he had given in the past –he had simply knocked out the one who had dared disturb him as he prepared himself for a mission. He supposed this show of restraint was another step forward in his efforts to improve himself.

She appeared relieved at his answering the door, as well as the fact that he hadn't slammed it in her face. "Well, I figured that since you've had a few days to settle in, I might convince you to come downstairs. I won't keep you long, but I thought we should at least try to talk to one another."

Bucky forced himself to relax further. "That sounds good," he replied, giving her a small smile in response to her broad one.

"Great!" she quipped. "Let's go take a seat at the dining table. I'll break out some snacks, and then we can talk."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Bucky found himself with a glass of iced tea in his hand, and several small bowls in front of him.

One bowl had sour-cream-and-onion potato chips; another had M a third had tortilla chips and a fourth had salsa. Anna was making quick work of the chocolate as she set up the laptop, eyes darting back and forth as she clicked around the screen and opened applications. Her fingers eventually stopped and hovered above the keyboard as her eyes drifted towards him.

"Are you ready?" she asked. "I'm going to try and ask a few simple questions, but if you don't want to answer, that's fine. Let me know, and I can move on to another one, or stop."

He watched as a slightly amused smile formed on her mouth. "I know this seems clinical, like I'm a psychiatrist, but I'm not. I just want to get to know you a bit better, that's all."

Bucky hesitated. "Will I get to ask you questions, too?" After all, fair was fair. If she got to ask about him, he should be able to ask about _her_.

Anna nodded, as though she'd expected this. "Sure. Would you like to take notes, too? Or I can, and give you a print out later."

"No, I'll remember your answers," he said, absolutely certain in his abilities.

"Then let's get started," she said, her fingers beginning to type.

* * *

Anna knew from the start that this was going to be very touch-and-go, and that she had to stay on high alert, so that she didn't touch on a subject that Bucky didn't like, or that upset him. As her fingers typed his answers into the computer, Anna found that, more often than not, that there were a lot of empty spaces on the document she was trying to fill out.

The questions had started out simple, most of them regarding foods, colors, hobbies, and other things that Bucky might like. He did his best to answer when he could, but those were few and far between.

"This is clearly not going anywhere," Bucky finally snapped, his left hand clenching in frustration.

Anna immediately stopped typing, her fingers deftly hitting the correct keys to save the document and put the machine to sleep before putting it aside. "You're right; I'm sorry. That was a bad start. Let's move on to something else, okay?"

She watched as he took a deep, calming breath, his hand slowly relaxing as he started to cool down. When she thought he was calm enough, Anna pulled herself a little closer to him, hoping that if she showed she wasn't afraid, he would open up a bit more.

"I know how this whole thing began for you," she said. "So, let's try and pick some goals for you to meet, hmm?"

For a few tense moments, she watched an array of emotions dance across his face. There was fear, anger, frustration, hesitation, and even bashfulness as he tried to get himself together.

"I guess that sounds okay," he softly said, eyes focused on the wood of the table.

Taking a quick sip of tea, he reached with another hand towards the snack bowls, popping M&M's into his mouth in twos and threes. When his hand was empty, he took another swig of tea to wash it down.

"Well, I think that you going out in public right now would be a bad idea," she said. "However, I know that being stuck in the house would drive you up the walls with boredom."

She eyed him closely, studying his physique. Although Anna's personal experience with men was limited to the guy-friends she hung out with, she knew enough to admit that Bucky was in fantastic shape. He was in perfect shape, actually, because the serum kept his body that way.

Figuring that this might be a good time to put forward her idea about an exercise room, she asked, "How do you feel about a workout room?"

* * *

Bucky blinked at her, almost as though she'd just spoken to him in an alien language. "A what?"

"A workout room," Anna repeated. "We could clear out that back office, if you want, and move the furniture into one of our bedrooms or the theater area. I could order a punching bag, some weights, and a treadmill for you to walk or run on. And you can decorate it any way you want."

She looked at him. "What do you think?"

"But don't you want the room for anything?" he asked, disbelief written all over his face. He had peeked inside once, during the tour she'd given him, and the place was obviously decorated well, with blue drapes and paintings of beaches on the walls. It was actually quite nice –why would she allow it to be wrecked by the likes of him?

Anna simply shrugged. "I've got my own room, and while you're working out, I can read in the living room or the theater room. I'm a huge fan of movies, anyway, and it wouldn't be much of a stretch to convert the living room in a sort of library, with the extra bookshelves. You can also take the decorations down, and I'll put them up in another space, like the living room. So it's no big sacrifice, at least on my part."

The offer was tempting, but he was worried that he was taking something away from her.

"It's fine," she assured him as she began typing into her laptop again. "Now, why don't we look at some workout equipment together, so that you can pick what you want?"

* * *

It was so strange, sitting close to Anna as the two of them shopped the Internet together.

Even though the laptop's screen _seemed_ large enough for two people seated side-by-side to look at it comfortably, Bucky couldn't help but feel uneasy as he did so with her. He did his best to keep at least a few inches of space between them, but that was difficult, since Anna tended to pull him closer so that he could get a better look at the items she had pulled up for his consideration.

It was all too intimate for him, and Bucky wasn't sure how to handle such a thing. Lucky for him, Anna seemed to take it all in stride and remained calmly professional as she asked if he liked something, and moved on to the next item on the list if he didn't.

And unlike many females he'd observed over the years, she was surprisingly business-like when it came to shopping. She even considered his opinion on something to be much higher than hers.

After a couple hours, they finished their shopping, and Anna went to start the night's supper of frozen lasagna, leaving Bucky to himself. In front of him were the receipts of the items Anna had bought for him, and he couldn't resist picking them up to look at.

The punching bag was something he had wanted to reconsider, since he'd doubted that the room would be big enough for both it and the treadmill. In the end, Anna had decided on purchasing one that was somewhat portable: it wouldn't hang from the ceiling, but could be pushed or set into a corner when he wasn't using it.

"Plus, there are treadmills that fold up and can also be put against a wall or in a corner, to give you a bit of breathing space when you're done," she'd told him. "If you ever decide to expand your exercise routine, maybe you could take up meditation or yoga. Those are supposed to be good for your body, and your mind."

Bucky had actually found those ideas funny enough to chuckle a bit, which caused Anna to pout. He'd quickly apologized, and stated that he was a long way from picking up any of those. Anna had agreed, but warned him to stay open to new ideas.

"You'll want them sooner or later, when you get tired of the same old routines," she said as she purchased a set of weights for him. "You'll see."

He knew she was right, of course, but didn't want to admit it. He did have his pride to think of.

Bored, Bucky decided that now would be a good a time as any to get to work on the study. He might as well start on the decorations, as they would be the easiest to move. Also, a spark of creativity was starting inside his head, and he wanted to see if there might be a way to put them back up after the equipment was installed, to make the walls less stark.

For the first time in decades, he felt a true glimmer of optimism, as well as an eagerness to get started on something new.

Even better, he found that he rather liked it.

* * *

AN: Review?


	7. Of Art and Books

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: Here's the newest chapter. Enjoy, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!

**Chapter 7: Of Art and Books****:**

Anna had to admit that she hadn't expected Bucky to be so eager to get to work on prepping his new 'sanctuary,' but she was surprised at how into it he got. The very day she'd ordered everything, he had gone straight into the room and began moving things around.

The first thing he took care of were the decorations she'd put up. It wasn't that he didn't like them; he simply felt it was best to start clean and work from there. Anna agreed with this, and took no offence as he began to clear the walls and store everything in a box in the hallway.

Today, as soon as breakfast was done, he went to take care of the bookshelves. They were actually two sets of two separate shelves, all stacked on top of each other. Anna guessed that four smaller pieces were easier for people to move, rather than one huge floor-to-ceiling piece, but when she saw Bucky pick one set up all on his own, she couldn't help but be shocked at his strength. In fact, she stood there, staring, as he hauled the shelving down the hallway and into the theater room. She only snapped out of it when she heard him calling her.

The instant she entered the entertainment room, Anna was greeted to the sight of Bucky, the shelves in his hands as he asked her where she wanted him to put them. She somehow managed to stammer out an answer, and watched as he placed it exactly where she'd indicated, all with little effort.

As Bucky headed back to the study to retrieve the second set of shelving, Anna couldn't hold back the nervousness that swelled up inside her. She'd known he was a killer, but had assumed that his skills were mostly in weaponry, like guns and knives. That was why she'd taken care to hide the more dangerous kitchen cutlery, though the blunter butter knives were where they should be.

Natasha had warned her a bit about Bucky's strength when she'd first brought Anna to the house, but watching him lift a set of fifty pound shelves without breaking a sweat was more than enough to shake her. Oh, she admired that he could do it, but it also showed how easily he could hurt her with just his bare hands.

'_How am I going to handle things if he ever loses his temper_?' she fearfully thought, her mind drifting to all sorts of escape plans she should form, just in case. He hadn't harmed her so far, but she wanted to be prepared for the worst, if it should happen. She resolved to get started on it when he was asleep, so that he wouldn't catch her and get curious about what she was doing.

For now, she watched as the second set of shelves was put atop the first, while the third and fourth were set up in the living room. Both rooms now looked a bit crowded, but the dark wood of the shelves stood out nicely against the pale walls and gave them a cozy look that Anna liked. She also had a dozen little knickknacks that she could scatter around, so that the spaces wouldn't look so empty.

'_That'll work for now, until I get some new books to put on them_,' she thought with a little humor. Then a realization hit her.

Heading into the hallway, she called out, "You'll need books."

All sound in the study ceased as Bucky stopped whatever it was he was doing. There was a small pause before he popped his head out the door, a puzzled frown on his face.

"What?" he asked, clearly wondering if he'd heard her correctly.

"You'll need books," she replied. "I don't know how caught up on literature and popular culture you are, but either way, you'll need something to occupy yourself when you aren't working out."

She ginned as she took in the sight of his disbelieving expression. "Besides, you'll need to exercise your mind, as well as your body. We'll go online after we finish setting up your workout room, and you can pick whatever types of books you're interested in."

The surprise on his face faded to blankness, just before he pulled back into the other room. Anna found herself puzzled about his actions. He did know how to read, right? He had to, since he'd been in the Army and everything.

Confused about his change in attitude, she made her way to the end of the hall and poked her head into the room. "Bucky? Is something wrong?"

The room looked much emptier without the shelves, even if the desk still remained. The wall hangings were gone as well, leaving bare, blandness where bright color had been.

Standing by the window overlooking the backyard was Bucky, a scowl on his face as he watched a bird feed in the grass. He seemed to be struggling with something, and Anna knew that she needed to ask him what that was.

"Bucky? Did I say something to offend you?" she softly asked.

He turned towards her, blue eyes filled with helplessness. "I don't know what kind of books I like," he admitted, torn between sadness and anger.

Anna immediately felt like slapping herself for being an idiot. Of course he didn't remember his favorite kinds of books! '_If Director Coulson saw how much I've messed this up already, he'd fire me right now, without paying me a cent_.'

"Well, we can turn that around fairly quickly," she said, trying to be cheerful. "How about I loan you some of mine? If you like something, let me know, and I can see what else I can find in that genre, or by that author. What do you say?"

The room was quiet as she stood there, counting her breaths as she waited for his reply. Seconds ticked by, and finally, Bucky let out a sharp, heavy sigh.

"I'm not angry with you, Anna," he said, not making eye contact with her. "Not really. I'm just angry and frustrated at not being able to remember a favorite book or movie. My memories are only coming to me in flashes, and even then, they only last a second."

Anna's sympathy for him surged upwards several notches, to the point where she felt brave enough to step forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. The muscles there clenched at the sensation of being touched, but quickly relaxed as she kept her hand there, unmoving as she offered what comfort she could.

"I wish I could just snap my fingers and make it all come back to you, but I can't," she whispered. "What I can do is promise to help you as best I can. So, for this particular instance, would you like to look at my book collection and see what looks interesting to you? Maybe something will help jog your memories."

Again she waited, her hand lingering on his shoulder as she counted her heartbeats, her mind wondering if this was when Bucky might lose his temper and lash out.

The next breath he took was a long, slow one, meant to calm his mood down. "That sounds fine. I'll follow you upstairs. When we're done, I'll come back and finish this room."

* * *

Following Anna up the stairs to her room, Bucky wanted to find a way to simultaneously kick and punch himself. He'd frightened and upset her; her face had said it all, and it had been his fault.

'_I have to learn to control myself better_,' he lectured himself, eyes trained on the steps as he headed upwards.

She was only trying to be kind to him, and he'd practically torn a hole in the wall simply because she'd asked about books. Books, of all things!

It wasn't that he hated books –he'd just never gotten the chance to touch one. It hadn't hit him until now that although he could read quite well, he'd never been able to sit and read an actual text. He'd always seen them in the hands of other people, but HYDRA hadn't been big on letting him have much 'recreational time.' The only things he'd been allowed to read were files HYDRA had on his intended victims, and those had not been the least bit fun to read.

The rare moments he'd had actual time to himself was on the way back to a HYDRA hideout, where he would either be given another assignment or put into suspended animation until they needed his services again. During that period of travel, his thoughts had mostly resembled that of a caged animal: edgy and longing for freedom, even as he was focusing on the armed keepers around him.

But now he had free time, and he needed to keep himself occupied somehow. Like Anna had said: exercise was all well and good, but he needed to engage his mind as well; reading would help. He'd already read some books given to him by Agent Barton and Phil Coulson, and they had been helpful in passing time, but he wanted something he could actually _enjoy_.

He looked up in time to watch Anna open the door to her room, and without waiting, he followed her inside.

The first thing that hit him was how warm and comfortable it felt.

On the far side of the room, the wood shelves stood full of books, top to bottom. There were even category labels stuck to the front of some of the shelves, probably leftover from her unpacking, so that she could decide where to put each genre according to her preference. From left to right, the genres were: science-fiction; fantasy; classic English literature; and American literature. A final set of space was labeled 'miscellaneous,' likely for anything that didn't fit anywhere else. He could see a few comic books and anime books there, some well-worn, some new and unread.

His eyes drifted from the bookcases to the other walls, which were hung with elegant fabrics in warm colors, such as red, orange, golden yellow and a light golden brown.

The way the fabrics were hung triggered a memory, one about him watching a film with an exotic, elegant tent in a desert oasis.

Pulling his mind back to the present, Bucky looked over the numerous decorations, collections of seashells scattered about, and other things that made the room a cozy and relaxing place to stay during the day, particularly a rainy one.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, looking around in appreciation. He could only dream of achieving this sort of thing in his own room.

She chuckled. "Thanks. I'm a bit of a hoarder and art-lover by nature, though. My move here gave me a chance to decide what items I loved most, and what I felt I could live without. I was also able to finally get organized, which I most certainly am _not_!"

Bucky shook his head. It was hard to believe that Anna was as she described herself, considering how great the place looked. He wondered if it would be alright to ask for her help in decorating his own room, so that it didn't look and feel so dull.

"If you'd like, I can help with your room," she said, as though she'd read his thoughts. "You can have the blue fabric that you took down in the downstairs study. They'd look great in your bedroom, and blue is supposed to be a nice calming color. It might do you some good."

He didn't like the idea of taking something that was hers, especially since the fabric must have cost a lot of money. It was tempting, but it still made him feel guilty.

But when he mentioned it to her, Anna only shook her head with a smile. "I have fabrics of all sorts of colors, so don't worry. One of my aunts went through a fad where she wanted to make her own clothes, until she realized she couldn't sew to save her life. She practically threw them at me when I asked to have them, and I've used them for decorating ever since."

Bucky actually found himself laughing a little at her story, which only made her smile even wider. "Seriously, the blue ones are yours. I've already been through my 'blue faze,' and I've found that I like the warmer colors better."

"Thank you," he said, meaning every word.

She blushed a little before turning towards the bookcases, clearly attempting to hide her embarrassment. "Now, about which ones you might want…"

* * *

It took almost an hour to get through Anna's collection, but when he was finished, Bucky had a nice stack of eight books in his arms.

The genres varied, but some were classics that Anna said were usually required reading in English Literature classes. He had a few from Charles Dickens, as well as one or two from Jane Austen, and some young adult books that were Anna's favorites.

"I would offer you a book from my Shakespeare section, but even I have a hard time getting through it," she admitted. "It'll either bore you to death, or frustrate you, and I'd rather not find out which one you'll be."

She'd meant it as a joke, but they both knew it was the truth. Still, Bucky was very grateful for her generosity, and made sure to thank her repeatedly as he hauled his stack of treasure to his own room. Once he'd set the books aside on his desk, he looked around the barren room. Anna was right: it needed decorating.

He quickly rushed downstairs for the materials that had been left in a box downstairs. Within minutes, he was upstairs again, where Anna stood looking at him with an amused glimmer in her eyes.

"Need help?" she teased, causing him to smile back.

"I think I do," he admitted. "I'm not sure how to hang them so that they look like yours."

In less than an hour, the walls of his room were changed. Three different shades of blue fabric draped in layers from the ceiling, the bottom of the last layer resting a third of the way down his wall. Anna had even let him put up a few of the beach paintings, which completed the calming theme she had suggested.

"We'll order more decorations later," she told him as they finished putting up the last painting above his desk. "Let's take a break for lunch, shall we? I'll go make some ham sandwiches and a pot of soup. You can either finish here, or go do whatever you want until I call you, okay?"

Bucky agreed, and decided to take a book to read in the dining room as he waited for lunch. As much as he wanted to help her in the kitchen, he knew it would be a bad idea. He had no skills when it came to cooking, and would mostly likely ruin anything he attempted to make.

'_If I'm going to poison anyone with my food, I'd rather it just be me_.'

He'd managed to make his own food his first few days at the house, but it had all been prepared or ready-to-heat items that weren't too hard to work with. Anything more complicated than that, and he was in trouble.

After lunch, the two once again settled down for some online purchasing. Bucky had decided that he rather liked Charles Dickens, and would like to start a collection of his own. Anna approved of his choice, and bought him an elegant, leather-bound collection. He argued that he didn't need anything fancy, but she insisted.

"You should have something nice," she said as she submitted the order. "Besides, nothing beats a leather-bound collection of books!"

She asked him about more decorations for his room, but Bucky decided against ordering anything else. "I have enough so far," he firmly told her. "If I change my mind, I'll let you know."

Anna agreed, and the two of them left the laptop at the table as they headed towards the living room. There, Bucky settled onto the immensely comfortable couch with his book while Anna stood and stared at the empty bookshelves that he had just setup there.

Several minutes passed before Bucky realized that she hadn't moved an inch. Glancing up from his book, he saw her staring at the empty bookcase, a thoughtful look on her face. Somehow, he managed to figure out that she was thinking of various ways to fill them, either with books or trinkets of some kind, or both. He wouldn't mind if it were both –the place could use a little more color.

"How are you doing?" she suddenly asked him. "I know that this has all been weird for both of us, but I just realized that I never actually asked how you were holding up after experiencing so much change in your life."

He was surprised at her question, but oddly enough, it didn't bother him. He actually found it rather pleasant, having someone actually be concerned for him. HYDRA hadn't bothered caring, beyond whether or not he was injured to the point of being useless to them.

Since Anna was truly worried about him, he carefully considered his answer.

"I'm as fine as anyone could be in this situation," he slowly replied. "Since I escaped, I've been struggling to remember who I was, and wondering if I could ever be that man again."

The smile she gave him was warm and genuine. "I don't know if that's possible, after everything you've been through," she said truthfully. "But we'll give it a shot. You might be able to recover a good portion of your old self, but you'll need to merge the two together. You aren't just Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier –you're both, and you're going to have to learn to live with both those personalities, along with your memories and experiences."

She paused and shifted uneasily on her feet. "And what about HYDRA?" she quietly asked. "Should we be concerned about them?"

* * *

As she watched, Bucky shook his head. "I don't know. I left them after the fight involving the Helicarriers in Washington D.C. They are currently in disarray, since Agent Romanoff leaked so many of their files and secrets onto the Internet, but eventually, they'll figure out I'm starting to remember my past and that I've abandoned them."

After a moment's pause, Anna couldn't help but quietly ask, "Do you think they'll come after you? I mean, you were one of their greatest weapons. People like them don't like to lose things, not for any reason. They might try to track you down and drag you back to work for them."

Part of her shivered in fear and nervousness as Bucky was quiet for a moment. But when he next spoke, his voice was cold as ice and hard as steel. "They can try all they want –I'm not going back. They'll try to kill me, to fight and force me, but I won't do it. I've had enough killing."

Those bright blue eyes of his were like glaciers as he looked over at her. "I won't let them hurt you, either, Anna" he told her, his metal hand clenching so hard that she heard some of it bend a little out of shape. "If they want you, they'll have to get through me."

Anna took a breath as she realized that he really meant what he said. If anyone tried to come after her, they'd have to deal with Bucky to do it, and she had no doubts that it would be his Winter Soldier persona that would show up to the fight.

Touched by his honesty, she went over and sat next to him, placing a gentle hand on his metal one. "Thank you, Bucky. I know that we haven't known each other long, but thank you for thinking well enough of me to offer your protection."

The smile that he wore was a sad and weak one. "I've done a lot of terrible things, Anna. I guess you could say that protecting you is sort of my way of making up for a little of it."

That was good enough for her. "Okay, then. I'm going to leave you to your book, while I go to my room and try to figure out how to best fill these shelves."

With one last smile, she turned and headed upstairs.

* * *

As soon as she was out of sight, Bucky let out a heavy sigh. Physical contact of any kind, outside of hand-to-hand combat, was still new to him, but at least Anna understood that. For that, he was very grateful to her.

Looking back at his metal fingers, he wondered what she felt whenever she touched him. Was it fear of what could be done with that single limb? Or maybe a bit of curiosity and fascination?

Focusing on his book, he could only hope that it was the latter, rather than the former. Maybe, one day, he'd have the courage to ask her.

* * *

AN: Review?


	8. Glimpsing the Past

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: So, going off of what I remember from the first _**Captain America**_ movie, Bucky was a bit of a ladies man (though not up to Howard or Tony Stark's caliber). It's only my interpretation, and imagination, so please no flames (constructive criticism is okay, though). Please enjoy, and don't forget to review. Thanks!

**Chapter 8: Glimpsing the Past:**

It took a few days for the exercise equipment to arrive, but when it did, the workout room was ready. Anna made sure she was the one who signed the delivery papers, and once the truck had vanished around the corner, she summoned Bucky to help haul it all inside.

For an hour, the two of them worked together to get the space fully set up. It was almost like those 'team building' exercises that offices put together for their employees, mostly about forming relationships and trust with one another. Anna liked to think that their time together was a success, especially when, after they'd finished, she and Bucky managed to exchange a smile that spoke proudly of their completed work.

Once that was done, Anna decided that she had to talk to Bucky about his past. Now that they'd been living together a little over a week, it was about time. They had started to become comfortable with one another, so she decided to push things a little.

Unfortunately, the day she decided this, her parents called her personal cell phone, wanting to know how things were working out for her in the "big city."

* * *

As he neared the stairs going up to the second floor, Bucky heard a phone ring in Anna's room, and a sudden realization hit him: he hadn't seen a single phone in the house, not even when he'd actually been in Anna's room.

'_It must be her own cell phone, though how she got it past Natasha is a wonder_.' The fear of it being discovered and confiscated must have been why she'd kept it out of sight.

Or perhaps she'd been allowed to keep it, so that she could talk to her family. Director Coulson might be the head of a secret government agency, but he wasn't heartless.

The ringing stopped quickly, and as he crept up the stairs to the hallway just outside the door of Anna's room, he could hear her greeting her mother though the line. Her door was only open a crack, so Bucky could barely hear Anna assuring her parents that things were going well for her, and that she'd settled in very quickly.

"Oh, work is fine," she said, keeping her tone moderately cheerful. "You know how difficult the first few days are, when you're just starting out."

He had to admire how well she was acting over the phone to her loved ones. As she talked about a job that didn't exist, as well as an apartment she didn't live in, even he began to believe that she was happily settled into a new life, one that didn't involve living with, and rehabilitating, a former HYDRA assassin and agent.

The conversation quickly turned towards whether or not Anna had made any friends, and Bucky listened intently as Anna admitted that, yes, she was forming a friendship with a male "co-worker" she'd met on the job.

"Yes, he's very nice," Anna said. "No, Mom, he's _not_ my boyfriend! I barely know the guy, for Christ's sake! We're just friends; that's all!"

He couldn't help but blush at the word 'boyfriend,' but he pushed that aside so that he could try and focus more on what she was saying.

Unfortunately, the topic of romance became the focus of the phone call, and he was amused to hear Anna argue that there was nothing happening in regards to his relationship with her.

Then, like a ton of bricks, Bucky felt a wave shatter against his brain.

* * *

He was lost in a tornado of images and memories, some involving a much smaller, and very helpless, Steve Rogers. He saw the tiny Steve trying to get the attention of several females, but always getting rejected because of his small stature and weak frame.

Bucky also felt his mind reliving moments scattered throughout his life, the images hazy around the edges, but clear when it mattered. He saw times where he put a sympathetic hand on Steve's shoulder, offering a smile and making jokes he couldn't remember, all to make his best friend smile again. There were no words in his memories, just images; but from the way Steve's mouth was moving, it was clear that he was thanking Bucky for his efforts.

With those memories came faint traces of emotion, ranging from sympathy for his friend, to anger at those women for hurting his friend. Steve might not have had the physique that most women wanted, but he had one of the most caring hearts Bucky had ever seen.

Quickly, Steve's plights with women faded, giving way to others that appeared to be part of Bucky's own past life.

In them, he saw beautiful, smiling women who seemed to be flirting with him, and laughing at things he either said or did to impress them. Blondes, brunettes, and the occasional redheads fluttered their lashes at him and gave him flirtatious smiles as they looked his way.

Various dating situations traveled like a tornado around his brain, and he struggled to sort them out. In some, he took a girl to a fair or circus, while in others, he and a girl were at a bar; a dance hall; walking along a boardwalk; or watching movies, his arm carefully slipping around her shoulders as they watched scenes unfold up on screen.

In all of them, Bucky saw his date draw close for a kiss, or playfully run off, causing him to chase them in order to get the kiss they 'owed' him.

* * *

The memories skidded to a halt, and though he could swear that he'd been lost in them for hours, his instincts told him that it had probably been only a few seconds.

'_Who were all those women_?' he wondered, silently gasping for air as he tried desperately to hold onto the fading images, fighting to pull names from the haze of his mind.

He failed. Soon, everything that he had seen fell away, and all that remained was the damaged man he was now.

Angry, afraid and frustrated, he rushed downstairs towards the workout room, his hands hurriedly pulling out the punching bag and somehow locking it in place just as he felt something inside him snap. His metal arm lashed out, clocking the bag soundly with a resounding thump.

Next was his right hand, then his left again, the motions repeating for God-knows-how-long before he felt tired enough to stop and take a breath. Then he started again, the rhythm becoming hypnotic and soothing to him. He tried changing it a few times, going faster during some instances or slower in another, but it wasn't as therapeutic as his original pace.

After a while, he noticed that there were dark shadows on the walls, and that the sun had set. His stomach growled, demanding that he feed it, now. The ache he had growing up his right arm and down his sides also cried out for a break. So, feeling outnumbered by his own body's needs, Bucky took a deep breath and began to stretch out his sore muscles.

A soft sound from the doorway caused him to turn around. He felt himself grow pale as he saw Anna standing there, a worried expression on her face.

"Are you okay? I heard you beating away on that thing, and came to check up on you." She gave him a weak smile. "You've been at it for a few hours now."

He continued to take several deep breaths, calming himself down so that he could answer her. "I'm sorry. I just got hit with a lot of memories all of a sudden, and it just got to me." He swallowed hard. "I'm okay now."

She perked up a bit. "Memories? Do you want to talk about it?"

No, he didn't. The last thing he wanted was for those images to possibly cause him to lose control and hurt Anna.

However, part of him said that he _should_ speak to her. Isn't that why she was here in the first place? She might not be a therapist, but she was starting to become a friend –she was the warm, solid person he could turn to if the memories became too much for him.

Nodding, he motioned her out the door. "Alright."

But to his surprise, she shook her head. "You're tired, sweaty and hungry. I can see how exhausted you are, and I heard your stomach growl." She grinned. "Plus, I can smell you from here. Go shower; I'll fix something to eat, and we can talk over dinner, or afterwards. It'll be done in half an hour."

Watching her vanish out the door, Bucky tried not to be offended at her comments. But after taking a sniff of the air, he realized she was right; he did smell.

Snorting in annoyance and amusement, he headed up to his room to wash up.

* * *

Dinner was something called fried rice, with steamed veggies and some chicken in a sticky-sweet sauce. Bucky found it hard to believe that Anna had whipped it up in such a short time, but had to smile when she motioned towards a pile of plastic wrappers on the counter.

"Frozen food," she said with a shrug. "It really is amazing how far we've come when it comes to that sort of thing."

He agreed with her. Vague memories inside his head said that frozen food hadn't existed back in his day, and anything HYDRA had ever fed him had been so utterly tasteless and forgettable that he couldn't remember much of what he'd eaten over the past several decades. His handlers had claimed it was all nutrient-rich and 'good for him,' so like any HYDRA agent, he'd done as he was told.

There had been times where he'd been able to sneak a few mouthfuls of vodka, or a few bites from a plate left behind by a forgetful soldier, but that hadn't been often.

Was it disheartening, knowing that over the past few weeks, he'd eaten far better food than he had during the past seven decades –at least, as far as he could remember?

Bucky quickly finished off the last of the food, and helped Anna put the dishes into the dishwasher so that they could talk. When the table was cleared, he made his way into the living room, settling down on the far end of the couch, leaving Anna plenty of room, in case she wanted to set up her laptop and take notes.

But rather than pull out a computer or even a pen and paper, Anna simply sat down next to him and smiled. "So, do you still want to tell me about what you remembered earlier?"

He looked at his hands, which were clenched tightly into fists –he was that tense and afraid. As much as he felt he should talk to her, Buck truly was afraid of the possibility of losing control and harming her.

Then he felt a delicate touch on his metal arm. All of a sudden, he wondered: what did she feel when she touched his hand? He knew that the outside coating was fairly cool, but the interior moving components created enough warmth to keep the prosthetic limb from feeling like a non-living machine.

He felt her gently squeeze his arm, the sensors channeling the sensation straight into his body. HYDRA had truly spared no expense when it came to making his false arm work and feel as real as the original had been.

"It's alright," she whispered, the softness in her voice causing a bit of his fear to fade. "Take your time."

They sat there for what felt like an eternity, at least in Bucky's mind. He could feel her hand warming the metal as she waited for him to talk to her. It was comforting, just sitting this way –he didn't want to end it by talking about memories that seemed half real, half imagined.

But he knew he couldn't hide them forever. So, taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and began.

* * *

Anna hadn't known how this meeting could have gone; she just knew that Bucky needed someone to talk to and be there for him. He needed a friend, and Anna was it. So she sat and listened.

It was, oddly enough, sort of her fault his memories had surged in his head. He'd overheard her chatting on the phone with her mother, and for some reason, the mention of relationships had brought about his trapped memories involving all the women he had dated.

In a way, it was interesting and tragic. Anna would never have thought Bucky Barnes to be a 'lady's man,' or a playboy –she and most of her family had thought him to be exactly like Steve Rogers, who, if rumors were to be believed, had never really been comfortable with women.

'_Well, until he met and fell in love with Adena_,' Anna thought, hiding her amusement. How that had happened, she didn't know, but she was glad it, and to someone she felt deserved it.

But it seemed that pre-WWII Bucky Barnes had been quite popular with the ladies, and from what she could see of the man before her, Anna understood why.

Regardless of the metal arm, he was quite handsome. The dark stubble on his face was neater than when he'd first arrived, but even with it, it didn't take away from the finely sculpted face that lay beneath. There was a sort of sad puppy-dog look that he always seemed to have, which only added to the pain and fear in those blue eyes of his.

However, Anna very much doubted that the Bucky of the past had borne such a dark and dangerous air around him.

Today, he did, and it was the only thing that would prevent women out in the world from trying to get close to him. True, some women liked dangerous men, but with Bucky, the danger was genuine, and sometimes, that seemed to flow off him in invisible waves that made her afraid to go near him.

Not that she let her feelings show so openly. Anna did everything she could to treat him normally, even kindly, and so far, it had mostly worked. He appeared to drink in the positivity, as though it healed him just a little on the inside.

But there were times where she truly feared him. Today, listening to him beat the hell out of the punching bag even from upstairs, she had been afraid that she had angered him somehow, and so she'd stayed out of his way until she heard his aggressive movements slow down a bit. That's when she'd approached him, even though it had made her nervous to do it.

"I'm sorry for listening in on you like that," he was saying, looking ashamed and irritated at the same time. "I was on the steps when I heard it through your door, which was open. It was wrong, I know, but I couldn't help hearing it."

As angry as she had the right to be, given the situation, Anna couldn't find it in her. Yes, it was a breach of privacy, but it was her fault for not closing her door. If what Natasha said about her door was true, if Anna had actually done the smart thing and shut it, he wouldn't have overheard her conversation.

But if she hadn't, Bucky wouldn't have had those memories surface. It was the silver lining to a situation that could have turned out a lot worse, if Bucky had been offended by what he'd heard.

"Well, no harm, no foul," she said, smiling as she patted his hand.

Not for the first time, she marveled at the technology that lay beneath her fingertips. The metal was at a slightly cool temperature, but after a moment, she could feel it warm a bit, almost as though it were a slightly chilled hand that had simply needed to be warmed up by another person's touch.

'_How is it that such amazing technology exists, but that it lies in the hands of a crazed group like HYDRA_?' she wondered. '_Just think of how many people in the world could benefit from a limb this advanced_!'

Maybe she should send a note to Adena, and have her cousin suggest to Tony Stark to get started on something like Bucky's arm. If the billionaire-genius could build his Iron Man suit from scraps in the middle of the desert, than creating limbs for others should be no problem, right?

Bucky was giving her a look that said he didn't believe her. "You're forgiving me that easily? I thought women tended to get angry about that sort of thing."

She sighed. "In most cases, that would be true. However, I happen to have a little sister, and many younger cousins, so I should have remembered to, as my dad likes to say, 'close the god-damn door' when I'm on the phone."

He chuckled at her choice of words. "So I should count myself lucky for getting off the hook so easily?"

Anna couldn't help but give him a teasing smile. "Yes, indeed. Next time, you face my wrath, and then you'll _really_ be sorry!"

Bucky grinned. "I consider myself warned."

"Good," she stated. "But we should be glad that you did listen in, if it triggered some memories. Though, I'm not sure how I feel, living with such a ladies-man."

She instantly regretted her words as his amusement turned melancholy. "I'm not sure if that's a part of me I want to remember," he told her. "I mean, I'm hoping that I wasn't the sort to just break hearts and not care about women and their feelings, but that's not who I _want_ to be. Does that make sense?"

It did, and Anna told him so. "Let's count those memories as a good thing," she suggested. "From them, you can learn about who you used to be, and can now decide to make a change for the better."

That idea seemed to sit better with him, as she watched the melancholy fade a little from his face. "So, that's one step in the right direction. It looks like we're making progress."

"Hooray for progress, then," Anna said, clapping her hands. "To celebrate, I suggest ice cream. I found a couple containers in the freezer while I was digging around for dinner food. How do you feel about chocolate?"

A smile began to peek through again. "I don't know. Let's see if I'm more chocolate or vanilla."

Anna got up and motioned for him to do so, too. "Guess that means two scoops for each of us."

* * *

Later that night, as he lay in bed, Bucky stared at the ceiling of his room. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had ice cream, so his experience with Anna was _almost_ a new one.

Still, it was a good one. Over dishes of chocolate and vanilla ice cream, the two of them continued talking about what he'd remembered, and how he'd like to try and get other memories to come out. Anna told him that there were other ways to trigger memories, and he found all of them interesting.

"They say that the sense of smell can bring out memories, either good or bad," she suggested. "Taste can do it, too. Apparently the brain links those senses to memories, for some reason. I'm not suggesting that I should sit down with you and wave random things under your nose, trying to get memories to pop up, but if you think it might help, we can try it and see if anything triggers a memory or two."

He wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet, but if Anna thought it would help, Bucky would try any type of memory-invoking experiment she wanted –but only when he was sure he could handle it.

Then Anna began shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "SHIELD gave me a few pieces of information that they thought might be useful, so I know a bit about your background," she reluctantly admitted. "But I don't want to start diving into that until we tap into your memories on our own. Anyone can pop open a file and read things about your life to you, but there's always a chance that something in there is wrong, and you'll end up having conflicting facts and memories in your head when you actually start remembering things about you and your past."

He had tried to argue, but Anna persuaded him to at least try to make it on his own. "After all," she said, "An Army, SHIELD or HYDRA file won't have your favorite foods or colors listed. They probably wouldn't have anything from your childhood in there, unless someone who seriously knew you mentioned something in passing, which is unlikely. If you want real details about yourself, we'll have to work for it."

He had agreed, and the two of them had parted for bed. As he changed and prepared for sleep, Bucky had to admit that he'd been perilously close to making a grab for her laptop and doing everything possible to see if there was a file on him stored there. It was sheer determination that had restrained him, as well as the desire to try and do things on his own, like Anna said.

Closing his eyes, Bucky let his mind drift, both excited about and dreading what tomorrow, and the future, might bring.

* * *

AN: Review?


	9. Memories

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: This chapter has a variety of flashbacks into Bucky's 'past' (most of which I made up, so please don't flame me for being creative). Please enjoy, and don't forget to review. Thanks so much!

**Chapter 9: Memories:**

A few days after Bucky's first major breakthrough with his memories, Anna felt that he was making pretty good progress. He, however, believed otherwise, but knew it was a bad idea to contradict her.

Once he had agreed to try different techniques to try and bring back the memories he'd lost, Anna had immediately gathered everything aromatic in the house, hoping that one of them might bring out either a memory or an emotion that was connected to something from his past.

The first few tries, nothing happened –the only results had been one mild sneezing fit and a small headache. Anna had tried offering him only a handful of scents each day, so as not to overwhelm him, but nothing happened. Two days of later, with zero results, Anna eventually realized that a lot of the scents she was having him try probably hadn't even been around (or widely available) during the 1940's.

Bucky had felt terrible about it, believing that he should have known better and realized what was wrong. Rather than let him wallow in self-pity, Anna had simply told him to not give up, and let her handle it.

"This whole thing about triggering your memories with scents and other sensory means was my idea," she said. "It's not your fault that it isn't working."

She'd then sent him up to his room, instructing him to clear his head and get some rest for the next day while she worked on the problem, apparently determined to fix it all on her own.

Bucky had reluctantly returned to his room, but had been unable to relax, as she'd asked. Instead, close to midnight, he had gone down to get a snack and found Anna working steadily on her laptop. Even though he longed to offer his help, Bucky had decided not to bother her, and instead gone back to bed, his mind full of questions about what she had been doing.

The next morning, Bucky had gone down, thinking that she would have slept in a little after working so late. However, there she was, eating her way through a big bowl of cereal, dark circles under her eyes from her lack of sleep. It turned out that Anna had spent her late-night hours in research, so that she could find what had been around during WWII, and to find what she could around the house to help him.

"That had been rather stupid me," she'd said with a smile as he sat next to her with his own breakfast. "I did a lot of research, though, so now we might be able to make a little bit of headway."

Anna decided that waving things under his nose was silly, so she decided to take different approaches. She'd researched things that people had used back in his era, and was going to start cooking with certain ingredients to produce dishes that were relatively common back in his day.

Bucky was amazed at how hard she was willing to work for him. To thank her, he was more than willing to put up with another round of her experiment.

Oddly enough, the new attempts began to pay off almost at once.

* * *

First, Anna had used a slow cooker to make pot roast. As the hours rolled by, the smell of roasting meat and potatoes filled the house, tickling the back of his mind as he struggled to grasp anything that came to him.

That's when the memories came.

Images of a small apartment in a ramshackle wood building in Brooklyn emerged, along with a vague outline of a woman with a warm smile on her blurry face. From the gentle, loving way the woman treated, Bucky knew that she had to have been his mother, and that the apartment was their home. Those memories brought a pleasant warmth to his heart, and gave him new hope.

Remembering his home triggered other suppressed memories, like how his best friend since childhood, Steve Rogers, had lived only one floor and a few apartments over from him.

Their mothers had been firm friends, and when their husbands had died while the boys had been young, both women had been poor widows, struggling to feed their children and themselves. There had been numerous times when they'd been forced to toss random ingredients together in order to make one decent meal a day, the four of them sharing the food out of one large pot over a fire in the fireplace.

At the age of ten, the two boys had set themselves to work, bringing money home to their mothers. If one boy was out of work, due to being let go or quitting a harsh boss, the other shared out what he had made that week, so that they could pay the rent and have enough to eat.

But as they got older, Steve didn't get much bigger that that of a young, teenage boy. He had always been sickly as a child, which was probably why he remained so small and fragile, much to his mother's worry.

Once he realized that Steve had become a target for the other boys and young men in the neighborhood, Bucky remembered that he had taken it upon himself to look after his best friend, no matter what.

* * *

Unfortunately, after the pot roast, Bucky had a bit of a dry spell.

Anna tried cooking other things that dated back to the '40s, and once she found out that he'd spent some time in Russia, she tried a few Russian recipes she found online. To both of their disappointments, none of them had the impact that the first attempt had.

Surprisingly, the second breakthrough happened while Anna was doing the laundry. Bucky had gone down for breakfast one morning, and was surprised to find Anna tossing her clothes into a washing machine. In the weeks they'd lived together, it was the first time he'd ever seen her do laundry –most of the time, she wore something akin to pajamas, since she didn't go outside. As a result of their 'house arrest,' most of her clothes weren't dirty or sweaty and (in his mind) didn't require washing.

It had been silly, but part of him admired the mechanics of the device. In his years with HYDRA, Bucky had heard about advances in technology, but he'd never actually used one. Most of the time, some lowly HYDRA member had been sent to get him clean clothes, or wash the ones he already had –cleaning dirty clothes was not part of his training.

It had been his thoughts about laundry, and the clean fresh scent of the soap led him to another string of memories.

He could recall his mother hunched over a wash tub every Sunday morning, her hands working furiously to get the stains out of his pants or socks. She had sometimes done other people's laundry, too, for extra money or in exchange for food. More often then not, Steve's mother joined her, the two women taking the time to exchange gossip as they washed their boys' or neighbors' clothing.

And while their mothers chatted, Bucky was with Steve, playing ball or racing around the neighborhood, enjoying the one day a week where they could have fun and didn't have to go to school or work.

Bucky smiled whenever memories of Steve popped into his head. He liked how, no matter what, he and Steve had stuck together, sharing whatever they had. If one of them got a new toy, he always shared it with the other, especially if it was a toy that was meant to be played with another boy. There were many happy hours spent together, tossing a baseball back and forth, or kicking a rubber ball around the large empty lot next to the building they lived in.

They even slept over at each other's apartment, once in a while. He remembered spreading piles of rags or blankets on the floor, the two of them talking quietly in the darkness of the room as one of their mothers slept in the next room. Sometimes their laughter became too loud, and they had to shush each other, so that they didn't wake that particular mother up.

* * *

But Bucky knew his mother hadn't been his only parent.

One week after Anna had served the pot roast, Bucky had experienced a day of remembering nothing of his past. He'd gone to bed angry and disappointed, his head aching from straining himself in his efforts to remember whatever he could, and coming up empty. He had spent his after-dinner hours putting dents into his punching bag, until he was too tired to keep going.

That night, and for a few nights that followed, the moment he fell asleep, he'd begun dreaming about a man he barely recognized.

The memories he did have indicated that his father had died when Bucky had been quite young, and that he hadn't known the man very well. Bucky attributed his lack of interest in his father to his lack of connection to him, but his desire to remember _anything_ of his past seemed to bring forward what memories his mind had, no matter what they were.

At best, the memories of his dad were hazy. He saw a vague outline of a tall male figure offering him a ride on his knee, or a small piece of candy as a treat. There was even one with a baseball bat, but not as a means of punishment or a weapon –it had been of a father teaching his son to hit a ball.

The baseball lesson was the most detailed of his memories regarding his father. After that, the figure faded, and the one who replaced it was his mother, whose smile Bucky seemed to live for as a child.

Unfortunately, not all of his memories about his past were good ones. Sometimes, they came to him in dreams, rather than when he was awake and ready to handle them.

* * *

His memory of the day Steve's mother died was one of his more depressing recollections.

One night, as Bucky slept, his mind pulled forward a memory of him talking to Steve, the two of them saddened by the death of someone both of them cared so much for. Steve looked particularly pale, his posture hunched as he returned to an empty apartment that had once held the loving warmth of someone he loved.

Most of the conversation was hazy, but Bucky knew that he was doing his best to encourage his friend and to comfort him. The one thing he did remember was saying, "I'm with you, pal, until the end of the line."

It was the last thing that Steve had said, back on the final Helicarrier, before falling into the Potomac River. That was why that particular day, as well as the one back then, had stuck in his mind. They connected his past with his present, and had finally broken HYDRA's hold over him. Those two days, decades apart, were the reason why he was now free of the tortures HYDRA had put him through for so many years.

It was said that love was one of the strongest emotions on Earth, and that it could conquer almost anything. For Bucky, that had proved fairly true –fear and anger still raged inside him, but memories of Steve and their past together was slowly battling those emotions away.

* * *

Unfortunately, the death of Steve's mother was the last batch of memories Bucky's mind could bring forth. Even worse, anything from WWII was a blur –he couldn't remember anything that his exhibit in the Smithsonian mentioned.

Not that Bucky would let that stop him. In the past two weeks, he'd remembered more than he had ever thought possible, and he desperately wanted to know more, particularly when it came to serving with Steve.

Once, however, he had been so desperate that he had asked Anna to tell him what she knew about his past. She had refused. "Not until we're absolutely sure that we've tried every other way to access what we can," she'd said.

They were still using scents, food and even games to bring things out of the recesses of his mind, but on the days when nothing happened, he had to restrain himself from slamming his head (and his hand) against the wall out of sheer rage.

Such would frighten Anna, though, and that was the last thing he wanted. She was his only friend, and the thought of causing her to fear him stabbed like a red-hot knife in Bucky's heart. He always did his best to restrain himself, to only take his anger out on a punching bag in private than in front of her, but it wasn't easy; not when he was stuck inside a house with no way to get outside and channel his feelings in another way. It was like being in a cage, and he hated it –it was too much like when he had been with HYDRA, and that only brought out bad emotions, ones that he _wanted_ to forget.

But the walls were starting to close in, and when that grew to be too much for him to handle, he knew there would be trouble.

So, after one particularly bad day, he suggested that his reward for his hard efforts ought to be a trip outside.

* * *

"That's a bad idea," she flatly said, after he'd made his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'm not suggesting a night out drinking in bars, or running around Times Square," he retorted. "All I'm saying is that we could take a quick walk around. Maybe we can get a cup of coffee, or explore the neighborhood."

"We're supposed to stay hidden," she said. "Agent Romanoff said that the best way to keep safe was to stay inside. Besides, I've been stuck here longer than you have, and I'm okay."

Bucky sighed. "Yes, but now that I'm off of HYDRA's leash, I need to get out of here, before I come down with a bad case of cabin fever."

He gave her a pleading look. "Please, Anna? One trip down the street won't be too bad, would it? Or even some time out in the backyard?"

Not that there was much of a backyard, but it was still better than being stuck indoors. Just being out in green grass and under blue sky might do it for him, though a good long walk along a street would be better.

Barely holding on to his eagerness, he sat and watched as Anna stood there and thought about his suggestion for a good while. He could see that she didn't want to risk taking him out where someone might recognize him, but she obviously wanted to let him have his wish.

"I know that keeping you cooped up here isn't good for you," she slowly admitted. "As much as I want to do what Agent Romanoff told me, I know that if you get determined to leave, I won't be able to stop you."

She sighed and crossed her arms. "Okay, we'll go out, but first, let's lay out some ground rules."

* * *

To show his thanks at being let outside, Bucky was willing to accept any rules Anna had in mind.

Her first rule was simple: he was not to wander off without her. Although he was aware of modern technology, Anna was going on the assumption that Bucky wasn't prepared for today's society and culture.

He had to admit that she was fairly correct about this. His only exposure to the world had been when he was on assignment for HYDRA, which meant very little time to see how the world had changed. HYDRA had made sure that the only 'updates' he got about the world came from them, so he figured that everything he knew was either wrong, or was strictly HYDRA's version of it.

Anna's second rule was that he would do everything possible to hide his identity. This condition was one he was happy to agree to, since the last thing he wanted was attract HYDRA's attention. He shuddered to think what they would do if they discovered he was still alive, as well as what he was doing. They had tried everything to take away his past and his humanity –if they found out that he was undoing all their efforts to return to his former self, things would get rough for everyone.

Her third condition was that he had to do what she said. For a man who was used to following orders and being under constant watch, this could go two ways. After several weeks, Bucky was now learning how to function independently, and he very much enjoyed this newfound freedom. He could eat what he wanted (though Anna did her best to keep things healthy for the both of them), and he could eat pretty much _when_ he wanted, without fear or punishment. The only thing he really feared was being caught sneaking some of Anna's favorite candies while she wasn't looking.

But on the other hand, he was accustomed to following orders, no questions asked. In theory, he should be able to do as she instructed, without difficulty. But as a man who was developing a taste for the freedom to choose to do things, it might end up being more difficult than he thought.

In the end, just so he could get what he wanted, he agreed to Anna's regulations.

She looked pleased, and promised that she'd try and keep things relaxed and fun for him while they were out-and-about.

"We won't be out for long," she warned him, "I don't want to over-stimulate you. We'll take a walk, possibly get a cup of coffee and some breakfast, and maybe come back."

"And groceries?" he asked hopefully, wondering how far he could push for a longer day out.

To his disappointment, she shook her head. "No, that sort of thing takes a while. We'll do just a quick hour or two; that's all."

Well, he'd tried. At least he would get the chance to go out, which was what mattered.

"I thought about having something set up outside in the backyard for you to do," she admitted, surprising him.

However, her next words squashed his hopes. "But I'm not sure if it's a good idea. If you exercise outside, you'd have to wear long-sleeve shirts and gloves, to cover your left arm. It might be okay during winter, but at this time of year, it would simply look odd."

Bucky tried to protest, but she stopped him. "Not to mention that people are going to notice you. Neighbors can be nosy, and if they become interested in you, they're going to want to come over and talk to you, which is the last thing we need."

Since all of her arguments made sense, he reluctantly agreed with her. Part of him wished that Phil Coulson had decided to move them to a remote location in the middle of nowhere, but that would make things even more difficult for them when it came to getting food and supplies.

"If you need more exercises to do, I can get you a jump rope, as well as one of those rowing exercise machines," she suggested.

Bucky immediately put down the idea of a jump rope, but the rowing machine sounded interesting. They agreed to wait a while, until he was sure he wanted one, and until they had a bit of money put by to pay for it.

"Okay, now that that's settled, I'm giving you the day off so that you can decide what kind of disguise you'd like to wear tomorrow," she said, shooing at him with her hands.

As much as he wished she would help him, Bucky felt rather proud that she trusted him to choose his own disguise for tomorrow. He could only hope that he didn't choose anything that would count as 'too much' for their short time out.

Well, there was only one way to find out how good his sense of taste was.

* * *

AN: Next time: a day out with Bucky and Anna! Please review?


	10. Out and About

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: Here's Anna and Bucky's first day out! Wow, that sounded way too much like a TV special or something. Anyway, please enjoy, and I hope people will review. Thanks!

**Chapter 10: Out and About:**

Almost immediately after Bucky suggested it, Anna had a bad feeling about taking him out in public.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him to try and be on his best behavior –it was that she didn't trust other people to be on theirs. After all, people were people, and she wasn't sure that Bucky would be able to really handle being out there.

'_Was this how Adena felt, when it came to helping Captain America_?' she wondered as she struggled to get to sleep that night. '_If so, how the hell did she manage to hold herself together_?'

Then again, Adena tended to have a positive energy around her, and more patience than Anna did.

But she had figured that Bucky had earned some time outside, and as long as they weren't out too long, it shouldn't be too bad –or so she hoped.

* * *

The day of their outing dawned with a faint layering of clouds, but the promise of a pleasant day with no forecast of rain.

After an hour of agonizing over her own outfit, Anna had decided to play it subtle and casual: black jeans, black ballet flat shoes, a pale blue shirt, and a black jean jacket. It was a lot like what Natasha Romanoff had worn when they'd first met, but Anna had to admit that it was rather fashionable and cute, so why not wear it?

Once she was ready, she headed down to the front door, ready to analyze whatever disguise Bucky had come up with, and fully prepared to reject whatever ideas or items she had to.

To her surprise, he had chosen rather well. Blue jeans, a blue jean jacket over a grey shirt, and black sneakers. For his 'disguise,' he'd chosen some sunglasses and a baseball cap, while his hair was pulled into a somewhat messy ponytail and black leather gloves donned both his hands. He looked like a perfectly normal guy, at least to her eyes.

She nodded in approval. "Nice," she complimented him, causing him to smile a little. "I like it."

Anna reached for her left side, where her purse dangled. After retrieving the house key (which she had discovered in a drawer by her bed, her first night there), she asked, "So, where do you want to go? A coffee shop, or someplace small for a quick breakfast?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Anywhere is fine. You pick."

Her stomach rumbled a little, demanding to be fed immediately. Breakfast it was, then.

* * *

As excited as he was to be going outside, Bucky couldn't hold back a wave of anxiety. Part of him was imagining everything possible that could go wrong, as well as dreading that Phil Coulson was going to find out and push Anna for this venture of his.

The mixture of fear and worry inside his chest became a brick that quickly dropped into his stomach on their walk down from the porch to the street. As his feet hit the pavement of the sidewalk, his old instincts took over; his eyes immediately glanced around as his senses became alert for anyone who might intercept them. Back in the safety and security of the house, he had been excited about leaving –now, out in the open, he was concerned about something happening.

His alertness and emotions did not fade as they moved down the block, Bucky purposely avoiding other people, his nerves badly shaken as he walked. Most of the people he passed hardly noticed him, but the fear that they would still lingered. He especially feared being discovered by his enemies.

A lump of fear rose up in his throat, nearly choking him. He'd never been afraid, working for HYDRA –he'd been their Fist, their most dangerous assassin, and had never feared being killed. He had been sure of his skills, sure that he would succeed, and he had never failed them, except at the very end. Now he was frightened that they would find him and drag him back, kicking and screaming.

Five minutes into their walk, as they reached their first curb and stopped to look for cars so that they could cross, Bucky became acutely aware of how unusually close he was staying to Anna's side. Almost against his will, his hand drifted towards hers, his fingers slipping into her palm. The solid, soft warmth of her hand steadied him a little, and he couldn't resist squeezing her fingers a little to reassure himself and steady his racing heart.

Rather that pull away, Anna kept her hand in his, and returned the squeeze with a reassuring one of her own. His nerves steadied further, allowing a bit more confidence to trickle to the surface.

It took a little while, but eventually, when no one had come charging up to demand that they return to the house, or to abduct them, Bucky allowed himself to relax, just a little. He took in the scent of green grass and trees, of burnt gasoline from running lawnmowers and passing cars, and the smell of water in the gutters from an errant yard sprinkler.

The smell of food cooking in some of the houses they passed brought about a few stray wisps of memory from his life in Brooklyn, when he and Steve had played around the apartment building as kids. He vaguely remembered smelling cooking tomatoes, meats being fried or roasted, bread, rice, spices, and many other things wafting through the neighborhood at all hours of the day, as well as half a dozen foreign languages being yelled as children of different ethnicities were called in to eat.

Those fond memories were replaced by ones from his time with HYDRA, where he had been forced to hide in decrepit buildings, tucked in the corners of dark, dank neighborhoods that had seen much better days. He remembered poor children in the streets outside, playing or begging for people to give them something, anything, to help their families.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. Anna gave him a questioning look, but said nothing. She would no doubt ask about it later, when they were back at the house. For now, she would leave him be.

That was alright; he knew that if he kept things bottled up for too long, they would come out eventually. Besides, he _wanted_ to tell her –she liked hearing about him making progress with his memories, and he liked seeing how pleased she was when his efforts succeeded.

A stray bit of breeze brought the scent of baking bread and sweet pastries to his nose, drawing his attention.

A childhood memory suddenly surged in his mind. In it, he saw his mother, smiling down at him as they entered a bakery. The scents of cookies and bread filled the air, and as he struggled to look over the edge of the counter, he smiled excitedly as she ordered a loaf of bread for their dinner, and some cookies for a treat.

"We'll take them when we visit the Rogers' tonight," she said as the baker's wife handed him a cookie with a wink and a smile.

Then he was back in the present, his head tilted in the direction of the smell, his body quickly moving towards it. Anna laughed as he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her along as he rushed to get inside and see where the smell was coming from.

In minutes, they were in a café, the place full of the tantalizing scents of baking dough, sugar, frosting, chocolate, and glazed fruits. It appeared that the morning rush was over, but there were still almost a dozen people inside, either sitting and eating their breakfast, or ordering something to take with them to their jobs. Bucky almost felt sorry for the young people behind the counter, who already looked tired and frazzled.

"Breakfast first, then pastries," Anna whispered, nodding towards the display case. "You can pick anything you want, but we'll eat before we get anything fancy. Get yourself something to drink, then I'll order the food."

Now, Bucky had been trying to prepare himself for this moment since he'd gone to bed the previous night. Under HYDRA, he had been denied the ability to choose _anything_ –the exception had been, on occasion, which weapon he was to use on his targets. Everything else had been planned and decided for him.

In his new living conditions, he was thrilled at being able to choose his own food. During those first few days at the house, he'd had his first real freedom in choosing what to put in his body. It had been exciting, but overwhelming: it took him nearly thirty minutes of searching through the kitchen to see what they had to eat, and another thirty of weighing his options.

And since his cooking skills were below even the most basic, when he'd tried making some of the pre-packaged food, he had burned some of it. Not that it had mattered, of course –it was food of _his_ choosing, and had been some of the best meals he could remember. Food was better with Anna doing the cooking, but those first few meals would always stay in his mind.

Stepping up to the glass display case, he removed his sunglasses and stared at the eatable works of art, his eyes drinking them in as he read the cards describing each one. The ruby red of the strawberry tarts caught his eye, as did the chocolate cream puffs and more exotic fruit tarts, which looked like jewelry in the light of the case. There were other pastries, too; these were far more elegant and tempting, both in looks and in the descriptions on their cards.

"Breakfast first," Anna reminded him, a hint of warning in her voice. "You can get more than one thing, though not more than three."

Sighing, Bucky studied the menu and its descriptions before deciding on a large latte as his beverage of choice. They only had regular coffee at the house, and he wanted to see all the new ways people could brew it. It had to be better than the burned sludge HYDRA gave to him and called 'coffee.'

Once he was finished, Anna stepped up to order a cup of peppermint hot cocoa and some freshly toasted bagels for them to eat there for breakfast. While Anna ordered a side of salmon cream cheese, and another of sour-cream-and-onion, Bucky watched eagerly as the employee brought the hot items out of the toaster oven.

Their breakfast and drinks in hand, the two of them sat at a corner table and began to eat. Bucky couldn't remember ever having a bagel, but he thought them tasty, especially with the different cream cheeses on them. Anna looked amused as he ate not only his bagel, but also part of hers, trying each kind of topping on them.

By the time he had finished, Bucky had decided to get two chocolate pastries, a strawberry tart, and a chocolate cream puff (which happened to be the size of his fist). There were several others that he wanted to get, but not being able to this time would give him the excuse to come back later.

Anna, meanwhile, picked out a couple fruit tarts, and a box of something she called 'French macaroons,' which she claimed were marvelous. "You can try some and let me know what you think," she said as she handed her debit card to the cashier.

As they waited for the employees to box their orders, Bucky decided to look into the case again, memorizing everything in it for any possible future visits. If he could persuade Anna to come back, he wanted to be prepared.

The bell above the door chimed as someone came in, and Bucky would gladly have ignored them, if it hadn't been for what happened next.

He heard the sound of an open hand hitting something, and that was all it took.

* * *

Whipping around, Bucky only needed a few seconds to assess the situation. Some idiot was aggressively hitting on Anna, and she did _not_ look happy about it. In fact, she seemed insulted and surprised that this guy had taken it so far.

The lecherous look the guy was giving her, along with the sound of a hand connecting with something covered in cloth, and Bucky knew that the man had slapped Anna's buttocks.

That made Bucky see red.

In one second, all of his HYDRA training came to the surface, along with his desire to put his metal fist through someone's face. He was more than eager to take this man and put him out of Anna's misery.

The familiar sensation of his cold, calm assassin side came over him, and in seconds, he was by Anna's side, his metal hand shooting out to grab the offender by the wrist. The mechanics in his arm began to tighten his grip, ready to snap bone, veins, and muscle with a single application of pressure. He'd done it before –he'd gladly do it again.

Pushing aside his sudden desire to eliminate the ass, Bucky settled for giving him the cold, expressionless look he'd given all of his past victims -it was the last thing they saw, and it always caused them incredible amounts of fear and panic. An effective tool, and one that often proved useful.

In this instance, the man looked angry at Bucky's interference, but at seeing his opponent's blue eyes leveling a look that could make ice seem warm, the other man went from angry to worried. Once Bucky was sure of the other man's attention, he said only four words.

"_Don't_ do that again," he calmly ordered, squeezing the man's wrist to emphasize his point.

The man's worry gave way to anger. But before he could say something that would only take Bucky's anger one step further, Anna was there, a hand reaching out to gently touch the back of his leather clad metal hand.

"It's okay," she whispered, causing him to look at her. "I think he gets the point." Her eyes begged him not to make a scene.

How could he refuse her? It would be easy to deal with this situation, but for her sake, he would hold back. He owed her too much to do otherwise.

Reluctantly, Bucky loosened his grip, letting the man go with nothing more than a bruised wrist. His opponent rubbed his aching hand, gave him one last glare, then swiftly left without a backward glance.

"Uh, sir?" a girl behind the counter squeaked. "Your order is ready."

To keep from scaring her, Bucky took a calming breath and let his anger go –at least temporarily. He firmly reminded himself that there was a punching bag waiting for him at home, and that he could use that as a means of expressing his anger. Now, however, he had to stay calm, both for his sake and Anna's.

When he was sure that he was calm enough, Bucky turned with a slight, polite smile on his face. "Thank you," he quietly said to the girl.

To his surprise, she smiled back. "You know, we've been waiting forever for someone to teach that guy a lesson. I've lost count of how many times he's come in here, harassing the girls who work here and our female customers. I'm glad someone finally stood up to him."

As she nodded to the area behind him, Bucky remembered that he and Anna were far from the only customers in the place. The women in the crowd were nodding, while some of the men seemed either in agreement with them, or jealous that they hadn't been the one to take care of the arrogant jerk, instead of Bucky.

A surge of warmth made Bucky realize he was blushing. "It was nothing," he muttered as Anna took him by the arm with one hand, and the box of pastries with the other.

"Time to head home," she cheerfully declared to the crowd. "Thanks for everything," she said with a nod to the woman behind the counter.

With a final nod to the employees, Bucky led Anna out to the street.

* * *

The walk back was a blur, his eyes glazed from anger at the man, as well as hate. How dare he touch Anna in that way! Oh, Bucky knew that morals had changed over the decades, but to actually see someone put his hands on an unwilling woman, especially one who was his friend, was almost too much for him to bear.

Anna was beside him, the pastry box firmly in her hands as she kept a quick pace beside him. That was when Bucky realized that he was moving too fast for her to keep up comfortably with his stride, so he slowed down and gently put his arm around her waist. The gesture was meant to be protective, but also to comfort her in any way he could.

They reached the house in record time, and as soon as the door was safely closed behind them, he watched Anna head for the kitchen with the box. As soon as she was out of sight, he began to remove the gloves that hid his hands, his feet slowly taking him towards the stairs

He didn't get very far, his foot barely touching the bottom step before he heard her returning.

"Bucky?" she called, the concern in her voice stopping him in his tracks. "Are you okay?"

He was silent for a moment, wondering if he should ignore her, or answer. As much as he wanted to do the former, he decided otherwise.

"No," he admitted, a deep look of sadness and disappointment on his face. "No, I'm not."

Coming back towards her, he reached out, showing his exposed hands. "I wanted to kill him," he admitted sullenly. "I wanted to kill him for what he did to you."

He swallowed hard. "That means I'm not getting better, am I? I'm still a monster."

"No!" Anna snapped, surprising him. Gentling her voice, she said, "No, you're not a monster. You are human. That anger you felt was something any man would have experienced, if it had happened to someone he cared about. It's normal for people to feel angry when they're in that kind of situation."

As much as he wanted to, Bucky didn't really believe her. "But I wanted to kill him," he said, eyes downcast in shame.

"But you didn't," she said, taking his hands in hers. "You defended me. Not every guy would do that for a girl they've only known for a short time."

She gently squeezed his fingers. "You're my hero."

Bucky looked at her in disbelief. "A hero? I'm not a hero –I'm the one heroes fight against."

"Not anymore," Anna told him firmly. "You're changing. Monsters and villains don't want to change for the better -they want to change the world for their own purposes. You want to be better; you want to do good in the world, and to _be_ good –and you did! You got that man to leave me alone, and you did it without seriously hurting anyone. You restrained yourself when it mattered, and that means you're starting to become the sort of man you want to be."

She made him look at her by letting his right hand go and tilting his head upwards. "We both know you'll never completely be your old self from the 40's, but today, you were that man. I'm very proud of you."

And then, out of the blue, she hugged him.

* * *

It had been so long since someone had hugged him, Bucky couldn't really remember the joy and warmth that came with a show of affection. It was wonderful.

They'd stood like that for a few moments, Anna's arms around his neck as the warmth from her body flowed into him. He savored the contact, closing his eyes so that he would remember it always.

"Do you feel better?" she quietly asked, her breath gently tickling his ear.

He nodded, the burden inside him lightening a little. When she pulled back, he reluctantly let her go. As much as he longed to hold her longer, he knew that would be a bad idea. She wanted the hug to end, so he would release her.

Something fluttered inside his heart, and for a moment, he feared that something was wrong with it. But that was ridiculous –the serum kept him in perfect health. There couldn't be anything wrong with him!

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

Shaking his head, he muttered something about wanting to be alone for a while, and fled upstairs, his mind whirling and his stomach twisting from the events of the day.

* * *

AN: Review?


	11. A Little Bit Closer

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: A nice bit of fluff in this chapter. Please enjoy and don't forget to review. Thanks.

**Chapter 11: A Little Bit Closer:**

Anna wasn't entirely sure how to handle things between her and Bucky, after they'd returned from their trip out.

Once they'd gotten home, Bucky had nearly broken down in front of her. Alarmed and worried about him, Anna had given him a serious pep-talk, one that he desperately needed and deserved.

But then there had been the hug. It had been meant to make him feel better about himself, and just as she'd thought that she had gotten through to him, things changed. Instead, the moment the hug had ended, he'd vanished into his workout room and locked the door behind him.

She didn't see him since, though she certainly heard him beating the crap out of the punching bag a few times. Twice, when she'd passed by the door of the workout room, she could hear him muttering various things in Russian as he worked out his anger. She might not have known what he was saying, but she was pretty sure that they weren't good things, just as she was sure that interrupting him was a very bad idea.

As morning had turned towards afternoon, Anna tried her best to get him to come out, but no avail. She offered him some of the pastries, and asked if he was going to come out for lunch, and got no reply. In the end, she gave up and decided to just leave out a bowl of snacks on the dining room table for him to help himself to when he got hungry.

Left on her own, Anna had flopped herself down on her bed and tried to figure things out.

* * *

It had started out as such a nice morning. She'd researched how far away the nearest eatery was, and was relatively prepared with a quick getaway or escape route if Bucky acted up, so she was somewhat confident that she could handle things. Not that she wasn't nervous about taking Bucky outside, but by then, it had been too late to change her mind.

As they headed onto the sidewalk, her nervousness had settled down and she began to relax and calm down. The day was beautiful: warm sunshine, few clouds, and the scent of damp plants filled the air. It had been wonderful, being able to enjoy it.

Partway into their walk, Anna felt Bucky's left hand slip into hers. Surprised, she stiffened a little, but when she felt his fingers trembling, she let it be. This little venture may have been his idea, but she now realized that being out in the open was rather nerve-wracking for him, especially when he thought HYDRA was probably still looking for him.

But it wasn't long before the tremble in his hand faded, and she managed to glimpse a flicker of relief and relaxation on his face as he began to calm down and enjoy his surroundings. The tension in his shoulders flowed away, and there was even a tiny, eager smile on his face the instant they got close to an eatery, where he caught the scent of fresh pastries in the air.

She'd watched in fascination as he got a look that she'd seen on his face several times before. The smells in the air had triggered a memory, and it seemed to be a happy one. Bucky never told her about the memories that came back, and she decided not to pry –he would tell her when he was ready. It was simply nice to see him happy.

Anna had come back to herself when Bucky led her inside, practically dragging her to get there. It was like a young child who knew something good was in store, but only if they moved fast enough.

The instant they were through the door, Bucky removed his sunglasses to get a better look at the displays, his face lighting up at the sight of the delights inside the glass case. Anna had forced herself not to laugh at the sight of a former assassin acting like a kid in a candy shop, almost literally.

To, to keep him from letting lose to buy whatever it was he wanted, Anna had firmly told him to restrain himself, and that they were going to have breakfast first. He had pouted slightly, but didn't argue as he ordered himself a coffee.

Sure that she had gotten a bit of control over his sweet tooth (at least temporarily), Anna ordered bagels and cream cheese for their morning meal. Bucky made quick work of his, and some of hers, before he was full.

Watching Bucky wolf through his food, Anna suddenly experienced her own little flashback. She was suddenly back babysitting her little cousins, watching them eat the ice cream sundae or slice of pizza that she'd secretly bought them as a treat. Her aunts and uncles would flip out if they ever found out how much junk food she had spoiled her littlest cousins with, but the little ones always knew a good thing when they had it, so they said nothing to give themselves (or Anna) away.

After the bagels were gone, Anna finally released Bucky to go to the pastry counter and look through the tempting, colorful pieces that sat there. It was fun, watching him struggle to pick out the ones he wanted most, and when he finally decided, she knew that they would have to make a second trip in the near future. There had to be half a dozen things he wanted to buy, but couldn't.

Not that she was any better. Anna's sweet tooth was notorious in the family, and she had a particular love for any type of fancy dessert, especially if it included fruit. In her mind, the fruit made it healthier, even if the scale back in her old apartment had stated otherwise.

While one of the male employees began placing their order into a large carry box, a customer had come in, his eyes roving throughout the café as though he were searching for something in particular. Anna saw a few of the waitresses stiffen or make faces like they wanted to groan out loud, but didn't dare in front of the other customers.

She was beginning to wonder what was going on when the stranger saw her standing by the register, his eyes sparking with interest as he began to hone in on her. For some reason, he'd decided that flirting with her was the way to go.

"Hi," he greeted her with what he assumed was a flirtatious smile.

All Anna could think of was '_um, no_,' as she tried not to cringe. He wasn't bad looking, but looks weren't everything (as was clearly the case).

"Look," she said, glaring at the offender. "I'm not interested. Go bother someone else, okay? I'm busy."

The jerk had the nerve to look surprised and offended at her negative response. "Aw, come on! It's just some fun."

After that, he tried some of the more common, and rather cheesy, pickup lines. When that happened, Anna finally had enough. She'd always been too busy to date, but flirting was something she knew enough about to recognize a guy who clearly needed help with it.

"What part of _not interested_ can you not understand?" she snapped, crossing her arms and eying him like he was something that needed to be scraped off her shoe.

What happened next was a surprise: the idiot slapped her ass, smiling the whole time.

Now, Anna was no stranger to bad flirters, but in all the times she'd been cornered by a guy, she had never encountered _this_ before. Sparing with words was one thing –being physically harassed was something else altogether. She could only guess that the reason she'd been spared this kind of encounter before this was because she'd always been in a group, some of them guys who always looked out for her. Guys tended to leave women alone if they had male friends around her.

That day, she had another kind of guy looking out for her, and when he saw what was happening, he looked more than pissed off –he looked down right murderous.

Faster than she thought possible, Bucky's left hand caught the offender's arm, his eyes cold as ice. "_Don't_ do that again," he calmly ordered, squeezing the man's wrist to emphasize his point.

She watched as the other man's smugness turned to worry and fear. Bucky was a rather intimidating figure, so it was no wonder the other guy looked like he wanted to wet his pants.

It wasn't long before the man's fear gave way to anger, but before he could say something that would only take Bucky's anger one step further, Anna reached out to gently touch her protector's hand.

"It's okay," she whispered, causing him to look at her. "I think he gets the point."

She knew that her expression silently begged him not to make a scene, to not cause trouble. The last thing they needed was a group of police officers showing up, asking questions and causing them to be the center of attention. Phil Coulson would never forgive her if that happened, and the last thing Anna needed was to get SHIELD involved, especially when they were trying to keep their existence hidden.

To her relief, Bucky loosened his grip, letting the man go with nothing more than a bruised wrist. His opponent rubbed his aching hand, gave him one last glare, then swiftly left without a backward glance.

"Uh, sir?" a girl behind the counter squeaked. "Your order is ready."

Bucky took a calming breath, and when he was calm enough, he turned with a slight, polite smile on his face. "Thank you," he quietly said, trying to look friendly.

The girl smiled weakly back. "You know, we've been waiting forever for someone to teach that guy a lesson. I've lost count of how many times he's come in here, harassing the girls who work here and our female customers. I'm glad someone finally stood up to him."

Anna, of course, knew that there were other people in the café. She could see the women nodding and looking grateful for Bucky, though some of the men looked resentful at not being the one to get rid of the arrogant ass instead of Bucky.

Looking over at her protector, she was amused to see he was blushing. "It was nothing," he muttered as Anna took him by the arm with one hand, and the box of pastries with the other.

Realizing that now would be a good time to get out while they could, Anna cheerful declared to the crowd, "Time to head home. Thanks for everything," as she nodded to the woman behind the counter.

With a final wave, they headed out, eager to get home as fast as possible.

* * *

The whole walk home, Anna had lost herself in thoughts that event. But the one thing that stuck with her the most was the fact that Bucky had been quite willing to defend her honor.

It'd been almost surreal. The whole 'knight-in-shining-armor' thing was something she had never encountered, and so she hadn't thought it still existed. Some guys would have simply ignored her situation, or even laughed at her discomfort when she tried to get away. Even worse would have been if the offender had had any friends with him, the whole group ganging up on a girl and giving her a hard time.

But Bucky looked more than ready to wipe the floor with the guy's face. In fact, she was quite sure that Bucky would have killed him right there, if she hadn't interfered. If they also hadn't been in a public place, and if Bucky hadn't made so much progress towards reforming himself, then it was quite possible there'd be a dead man on the ground right now.

The thought disturbed her, but there was a silver lining: Bucky had restrained himself, and instead had been the better man, letting the man go without a scratch on him. That was possibly one of the best signs she'd seen, when it came to the direction that Bucky was working for.

One of the more pleasant surprises was how he'd put his arm around her during the walk back. He'd also slowed his pace for her, his show of tenderness and concern surprising and sweet. It was a good sign, his gentle side coming through like that.

By the time they reached the house, however, Anna sensed that something was bothering her charge. He was tense and scowling deeply as she locked the door behind them. She quickly put the box of pastries on the coffee table inside the living room, and rushed back to him, catching him as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs.

"Bucky?" she called, stopping him in his tracks. "Are you okay?"

He was silent for a moment, and just when she thought he was going to simply walk away and leave her standing there, alone, he turned around.

"No," he admitted, a deep look of sadness and disappointment on his face. "No, I'm not."

Coming back towards her, he reached out towards her. That's when she saw that the gloves were gone, his metal hand now exposed and shining brightly in the day's sunlight.

"I wanted to kill him," he admitted sullenly. "I wanted to kill him for what he did to you."

He swallowed hard. "That means I'm not getting better, am I? I'm still a monster."

"No!" she sharply stated, surprising him. "No, you're not a monster. You are human. That anger you felt was something any man would have experienced, if it had happened to someone he cared about. It's normal for people to feel angry when others do such crude things."

He didn't look like he believed her. "But I wanted to _kill_ him," he said, eyes downcast in shame.

"But you didn't," she said, taking his hands in hers. "You defended me. Not every guy would do that for a girl they've only known for a short time."

She gently squeezed his fingers. "You're my hero."

Bucky looked at her in disbelief. "A hero? I'm not a hero –I'm the one heroes fight against."

"Not anymore," Anna told him firmly. "You're changing. Monsters and villains don't want to change for the better -they want to change the world for their own purposes. You want to be better; you want to do good in the world, and to _be_ good.

"And you did! You got that man to leave me alone, and you did it without seriously hurting anyone. You restrained yourself when it mattered, and that means you're starting to become the sort of man you want to be."

She made him look at her by letting his right hand go and tilting his head upwards. "We both know you'll never completely be your old self from the 40's, but I know you'll try to be as much like him as you can. Today, you were that man. I'm very proud of you."

And then, out of the blue, she wanted to hug him.

So she did.

* * *

It had been so odd, hugging Bucky like that. She had been expecting him to awkward –after all, he hadn't been hugged in over seventy years, and probably hadn't experienced that sort of close interaction with others.

Maybe it was out of human instinct, or maybe he remembered more than she thought, but his arms quickly settled right into place around her waist, pulling her close.

As his arms tightened around her, Anna half expected to be crushed from him squeezing her too tight with his metal arm. But instead, the hug was just as it should be: firm, comforting, and pleasant. She heard him breathing into her hair, and could feel Bucky's pounding heart slow as he calmed down.

After several minutes, she quietly whispered into his ear, "Do you feel better?"

He nodded. When she pulled back, he seemed reluctant to let her go.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, trying to hide her blush.

Shaking his head, Bucky muttered something about wanting to be alone for a while, and fled upstairs.

* * *

That had been well over six hours ago. Now here she was, still waiting for him to come out of his room, even while she hid away in hers.

She'd tried catching when he made his way to the exercise room, but he somehow managed to get there without making much noise. She hadn't pictured him as the stealthy type, but when he wanted to move around the house unnoticed, he seemed pretty good at it.

Rolling over in her bed, Anna sighed. They really did need to talk, but Bucky wasn't being cooperative. She'd thought that her pep-talk had worked things out a bit, but he was likely still ashamed of how he'd felt towards the other man in the café.

'_What a way to experience his first day out as a free man under SHIELD's protection_,' she thought with a sigh. '_Though, it could have been far worse_.'

Yes, and she was sure that he knew that as well. The point was, she needed to get him to talk to her, or else his guilt would eat away at him.

Getting up, she quietly made her way to her door and peeked out. Bucky's door was open, and since the sound of fists hitting a punching bag wasn't reaching her ears, she knew that this was a good time to corner him.

Quietly, she slipped downstairs.

* * *

He was seated at the kitchen table, the pastry box sitting open before him. Both hands were on the wooden surface, one on either side of the box, clenched into loose fists. His blue eyes were so focused on what was inside that she half expected it to burst into flames.

Torn between amusement and concern, Anna made her way over to the table and took a seat beside him. "Hi," she whispered.

He lifted his gaze to look at her for a brief second, then turned back towards the box. "You know, if you keep looking at them like that, they're going to catch fire…or turn sour," she teased. "I'd hate to think that we paid all that money for nothing."

His fists clenched tighter, his glare growing more hostile towards the items in the box. When he continued to remain silent, Anna decided that she needed to take a risk. She reached out and laid her hand his. His fingers clenched tightly, to the point where his joints cracked, but he didn't pull away. She took that as a good sign.

For a while, they sat in silence, the two of them listening to the sounds of the world around them. There was the sound of the house settling; of a neighbor mowing their lawn; and of water slowly dripping in the kitchen sink. It would have bothered most people, but right then, it was alright.

Finally, she felt his hand move, the fist unclenching and slowly opening as he turned it so that his fingers could wrap around hers. The sound of his metal hand relaxing was a welcome one.

Looking at the box, she saw the array of desserts and blurted out, "I like chocolate."

The random comment startled him, but it also brought a small smile to his face. "Then why did you choose the fruit tarts?" he quietly asked, his facial expression torn between half amused, half puzzled.

Anna shrugged. "It seemed the healthiest of the options."

He actually let out a small chuckle. "Then I'll share with you," he said, bringing out one of the chocolate pastries.

"I'll get plates," she said, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. "Although, I can't promise that I won't eat more than my fair share of the chocolate!"

The sound of soft laughter behind her was a welcome one.

* * *

AN: Review?


	12. Emotions Run A Bit High

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: Sorry the last chapter was boring –I sort of had a bit of writer's block, and that was what popped out. This time, though, there's more stuff happening, with special appearances from some familiar faces. Enjoy, and please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 12: Emotions Run A Bit High:**

Even from across his room, Bucky could feel those cold, lifeless black eyes staring at him. It was very unnerving. He didn't know what Anna meant to accomplish by it, but it was supposed to help him in some way or another.

Sighing, he went over and picked up the stuffed animal. It was a dog, and was somewhat cute. '_At least it isn't one of those overly-adorable children's toys with big cartoon eyes_,' he thought to himself, shuddering at the thought.

He couldn't have borne it if it were –those were not something he really liked. If it had turned out to be one of those, he might even have thrown it out the window and into the bushes next door. Then, when Anna asked what he'd done with it, he would have gladly made his excuses.

Looking at the animal, he shook his head and smiled. If Anna had presented the toy a mere few months ago, while he'd still been under HYDRA's influence, he'd have ripped the animal apart and crushed it with his metal hand.

He didn't feel that way now.

* * *

In the week that followed their first day out, Bucky had felt a sort of glowing warmth inside him. Anna's gentle, nurturing care had managed to soften the hard, emotionless shell HYDRA had built up inside him in order to make him the perfect weapon: their unfeeling Winter Soldier. Now, he was a different man.

Rather than taking swings at walls, or shooting bullets into whomever or whatever had upset him, Bucky channeled much of that anger away via a punching bag, or shouting things in Russian when he was alone. He had lately realized that most of his anger and frustration had been due to HYDRA's handling of him, and their efforts to suppress who he really was. His former self had been fighting to get out, but HYDRA had placed many mental walls within his brain, and wiped his mind so often that nothing ever got through –not until he'd seen Steve Rogers again.

But it wasn't really Steve who had caused all the changes within him. It was Anna whom Bucky credited with all of his positive feelings, though he believed their first hug had been the key. The hug had sparked something inside his heart, and it was a sensation that he liked very much.

That was why, when Anna had presented the closed box to him, asking him to open it, he'd done so. After his fingers had pulled open the cardboard box and torn away the tissue paper, he'd stared at the toy within with a confused, incredulous look on his face.

Anna had snickered a little, but Bucky knew it was because she was only amused with his reaction, and that it wasn't out of meanness.

"Uh, what is it?" he asked, straight out.

"It's a husky," she said, watching as he stroked the soft faux fur. "I had a thought a few days ago, and decided to just go with it."

Her idea was that he could use someone (or something) to talk to, if he felt that he couldn't talk to her. She explained that children often told their troubles to toys, mostly when they felt no one would listen, and to get things off their mind.

"Plus, toys don't judge or lecture you," she said, half joking. "I know there are times when I just want to vent my anger and frustrations aloud to a sympathetic ear, but not have to put up with someone telling me to just 'get over it.' It's good to complain aloud, and with a toy, you don't have to worry about upsetting the listener."

For a moment, Bucky was against this. He already knew that Anna was more than willing to sit and listen to anything he had to say, no matter what it was. He was grateful to her for that, and for the advice she would offer him whenever he asked for it. She was a warm, solid presence he trusted.

And yet, he understood her suggestion. There had been times where he wished he could complain out loud, but not to Anna. As much as he trusted and liked her, Bucky didn't think it was right for him to place more burdens on Anna's shoulders. She already had too much on her plate, and to be quite honest, the stuffed dog _was_ a thoughtful gift.

Even though it was tempting to tell her to have the thing, the pleading look in her eyes had caused him to give in and agree to keep it anyway.

* * *

So, here he was, looking at a stuffed dog that was looking right back at him.

But it wasn't a cruel look, or one with disappointment or fear in it –it was actually almost friendly and welcoming, even if it was only two black buttons. That little smile stitched onto the muzzle actually seemed to make it friendlier.

Searching through his memories, Bucky tried to see if he could produce one involving any possible pets he might have owned. Thanks to his and Anna's efforts, the memories were still flowing, but very slowly. In spite of his best efforts, he was only successful part of the time. If Anna hadn't been there to encourage and comfort him, Bucky would have given up a lot sooner on trying to retrieve those memories.

Still, once in a while, he could bring a memory forward after a struggling through the ones he already had, all in the vain hope that one memory would connect to another. That occasionally worked, but not often.

Now, as he tried to recall if he'd ever had a childhood pet, he focused on the memories that he'd pulled up before, namely ones in which he played games with a young Steve Rogers. He hoped that by focusing on his childhood and playing outdoors, he might trigger a memory involving a pet, such as a dog or cat.

After ten minutes of struggling, however, nothing came up. Feeling slightly discouraged, Bucky decided to give it a rest and go downstairs to see what Anna was up to. Today was one of the rare times that Anna had given him a day off, and he was curious as to what she did while he kept busy. He _wanted_ to give her some time and space to herself, but after seventy years of having his curiosity discouraged by HYDRA, he couldn't help but want to know things.

Slipping downstairs, he listened to find out where she was. Not the exercise room –that was his domain. Anna went there to find him, not vice versa. The rest of the floor was eerily silent. In fact, the whole house was.

'_She isn't in her room_,' he thought to himself. He'd walked past her open bedroom door himself, and hadn't seen any sign of her.

After careful thought, Bucky realized that the silence was the clue he was searching for.

Anna was a great lover of music, so she was always tapping her foot, a pencil, or her fingertips on whatever surface was nearby. Usually, no matter where he went in the house, all Bucky had to do was follow the rhythmic tapping. Since she would never leave the house without him, Anna was obviously still here.

The only place she could be was the theater room, which happened to be the only sound-proof room on the first floor.

Quietly making his way there, Bucky knelt and pressed his ear against the metal plating around the doorknob. It was the weakest point of the door, and he could hear Anna's voice talking to someone. Stiffening, he wondered who had dared to visit the house, and why she had let them in.

His mind instantly wondered who was stupider: the visitor for coming over, or Anna for letting them into the house?

His left hand clenched in anger, but that anger immediately gave way to fear –namely, the fear of accidentally losing his temper and hurting Anna. He had no fears about being hurt or killed, but the thought of anything bad happening to Anna - worst of all, by his hand - was enough to make his entire body go cold.

'_I might be getting better at keeping a hold of my temper, but I could still hurt her if I lost control_,' he told himself, not for the first time.

When he felt his grip on his emotions was sound, Bucky stood up, his mind firmly telling his hands to relax. Slowly, it did so.

And just in time, since the next thing that happened was Anna opening the door and finding him standing there.

* * *

It was supposed to have been a nice, calm day at the house. She'd given Bucky the day off, and had fully intended to lose herself in one of the new books she'd ordered and been dying to dive into.

Then Natasha Romanoff had called her cell.

"Agent Coulson wants a report on Barnes's progress," the female SHIELD agent flatly told Anna as soon as she'd picked up. "Be down in the theater room, and fully ready to talk with him in ten minutes."

Luckily, Bucky was still in his room, and hadn't heard. He also hadn't witnessed her racing around her room in a panic before going downstairs, her mind struggling to come up with something to report to the Director of SHIELD –who also happened to be her boss, and could possibly have her dropped into a remote jungle somewhere simply because she wasn't doing a good enough job.

'_I am doing a good job_,' she told herself, trying to be positive as she shut the door of the theater room behind her.

Not long after the door was closed, an image appeared on the large-screen television. Director Phil Coulson sat behind a large wood desk, slightly reclining in a black leather office chair as he looked into his computer screen. Behind him was the SHIELD emblem, huge and proud in black and silver. To his left was Natasha Romanoff, who was in a black suit with a white shirt, arms crossed and a gun resting comfortably at her right hip.

"Miss Wallace," he greeted her, a smile on his face. "Thanks for meeting me on short notice. My schedule just opened up a bit of time, so I thought I'd call and get a report on how you were doing."

Anna smiled back, still slightly nervous at having to make a last-minute presentation. Speaking in front of others terrified her –doing so in front of the head of SHIELD was even more so.

"It's no trouble, sir," she hastily assured him. Swallowing down her nerves as much as she could, she bluntly said, "I'm afraid I'm not sure how to proceed from here. I've never had to make a report of this type before. Should I start, or would you like to?"

He actually looked amused. "That's alright. I'll start off with asking how the two of you are doing so far?"

She shrugged. "Not too bad. It was a bit rough at the beginning, but we've managed."

Phil gave her a look. "I understand you've made a few improvements to the place?"

Anna blushed, suddenly realizing that she'd made some adjustments to the house that probably should have been approved of by SHIELD first. "Yes, sir. I helped turn the downstairs study into an exercise area for Bucky. He needed a way to work out his negative emotions, and that seemed like the best option."

Natasha nodded. "That's a good idea. I'm glad you thought of it."

"Me, too," Phil agreed. "Now, has there been any progress in rehabilitating him? Any sign of his past memories and personality coming through?"

Whew, that was a big question, and Anna spent a good half hour telling Phil everything that had happened in regards to Bucky. The Director was surprised that Bucky had managed to actually get through to some of his memories, and that the Winter Soldier was quickly heading down a more positive path towards being his old self.

"He's not completely the old Bucky, though," Anna warned. "He's doing well, but there's still a lot of work to be done."

Phil gave an understanding nod. "We don't really expect him to completely revert back to his previous self. He's done a lot of bad things, and even though HYDRA managed to wipe his memory once in a while, he's still got a lot of emotional and psychological baggage. No one ever fully comes back from things like that."

"Other than that, things are okay," Anna told them. "I would like Bucky to get out more, though. Natasha sort of indicated that we shouldn't go out much, if at all, but being locked inside a house all the time can't be good for him."

She hesitated before making her suggestion. "There is a backyard, but even if it isn't a very big one, Bucky and I might be able to come up with something we can do with it."

Phil and Natasha exchanged a look. Anna waited several agonizing seconds, wondering if she'd said the wrong thing, before Phil gave a small nod. "Okay, you can try something with the backyard. Maybe put up a large tent or something that people can't see into, and put in a workout area."

"Or one of those exercise pools," Natasha suggested. "There are pools that are small, but which keeps a person in one place while they swim. We can have our people install one in the next few weeks, and it might help him a bit more, having a variety of exercises."

"As for going outside: I don't think it's a good idea just now," Phil firmly declared. "He might seem stable now, but I don't want to risk him losing control in a public place and causing a scene that we'll have to clean up."

Anna felt like she was going to be sick. Did they know that she'd already taken Bucky on a day out in the world? Were they testing her, to see if she'd admit to doing something they already knew about? Or if they truly didn't know, should she admit what she'd done?

'_It's probably best to admit it now, and beg for forgiveness later_.'

"Um, sir?" Anna tentatively said. "Um, I'm afraid I already took Bucky out…to a café…for breakfast…a week or so ago."

Everything went seriously quiet as Phil looked at her. Anna swallowed hard as he quietly said,"I think I'd like to talk with both you and your roommate." It was definitely an order.

Lucky for her, when Anna opened the door, Bucky was already standing there, almost as though he were waiting or searching for her.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she said, taking his right hand. "Come on; Director Coulson wants to talk with us."

* * *

Confused, Bucky followed Anna into the room, and looked up at the large television that hung on the wall. While Agent Romanoff looked calm and collected, Director Coulson looked somewhat upset.

"I understand that Miss Wallace took you on an outing a week or so ago," the Director said, looking at them through the screen. "Is this true?"

Bucky did not like the other man's tone. "She did," he admitted.

"That was not a very smart thing to do," Phil stated. "We need to keep you secret and keep Anna safe. We can't do that if you're going outside while HYDRA and a dozen world governments and spy agencies are out looking for you!"

Bucky's left hand clenched. "It's not Anna's fault! I asked her to take me outside because I can't stay caged up in this house forever. The weeks of being holed up inside this house were starting to drive me crazy, and I needed to get out there and _do_ something."

Glancing over at Anna, Bucky tried to keep his temper in check. "I think you should know that she is a very good-hearted, responsible person. She takes good care of me, and makes sure that I have everything I could need. When we went out, I looked out for her –the last thing I want is for her to be harmed. We're a good team."

The Director clearly did not like being contradicted. "It was still a bad idea, and you should have cleared it with me first. My first priority is to keep Anna safe, and keeping _you_ out of sight goes hand-in-hand with that. If someone had seen or recognized you, HYDRA would be all over the city in no time. Then SHIELD would have had to act, and that would expose us to the world, which is the last thing we need to do right now, since we're not supposed to exist!"

Natasha cleared her throat. "I also happen to know that there was almost an incident involving Mr. Barnes and a male civilian during that day out." She looked over at her boss. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it, sir, but nothing came of it, and the agents keeping an eye on them could have easily handled any situation that could have occurred."

Everyone looked over at her. "You have people keeping an eye on us?" Anna asked, looking surprised and, oddly enough, rather insulted. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "It's SHIELD, Anna. _Think_ about it." She then turned towards her boss. "And they're right. We can't keep him locked inside the house forever. If we wanted him imprisoned, we would have shut him up in a deep hole somewhere and treated him like a prisoner. We have to let him out once in a while; otherwise he'll get frustrated and lash out. If he ends up hurting Anna, what are you going to tell her parents –or worse, her cousin? I don't think Adena would be happy to hear that you endangered a member of her family, do you?"

The scowl on Director Coulson's face deepened as silence stretched out for a good long minute. Finally, the Director turned towards Anna. "I'll let it pass, this time. But you're not allowed to go out again until I give you permission, do you understand? That might not be for a while, so consider this a punishment and a warning."

Anna hastily nodded while Coulson continued. "In case you decide you need it, I'm giving you permission to put up a tent or sheltered area in the rear yard for whatever purpose you need it for. If you'd like, we'll assign SHIELD workmen to set it up, so that you won't have to worry about outsiders walking around inside the house."

Bucky wanted to ask what he was talking about, but chose to stay silent as Coulson told Anna that he was glad they were getting along, and that if they needed anything else, to just call or contact Agent Romanoff.

With that, they signed off, leaving him alone with Anna once more, his anger still bubbling slightly under the surface.

* * *

AN: A slightly shorter chapter this time, but more to follow next week. Please be kind and review? Thanks.


	13. Tension Runs High

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: Here's the next chapter. Please enjoy, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!

**Chapter 13: Tension Runs High:**

Taking a deep breath, Anna counted herself lucky for having gotten off so easily. There were a lot of other ways the conversation could have ended –a lecture was the best she could have hoped for, and boy was she grateful it was all she got.

Glancing over at Bucky, she saw that he was still upset from his talk with Coulson. "Bucky?" she whispered, getting his attention. "Why don't you go to your workout room for a bit? I'll call you for dinner."

He nodded and headed off. Once she was alone, Anna headed up to her room, her mind spinning with thoughts about the chat she'd just had with Phil and Natasha.

She supposed that she ought to have known that SHIELD would have eyes on the house. They probably monitored it constantly, just to make sure that neither she nor Bucky went outside and caused trouble.

'_I wonder if they check to make sure that he hasn't lost his temper and killed me yet_,' she mused, half joking.

The other half of her was angry, mostly at the agency she was employed by. She didn't like having people spy on her, even if it was for a good reason. Did they have eyes inside the house, watching her every move?

Anna truly didn't care if they were monitoring what she looked at and shopped for on the computer Natasha had given her. She figured that SHIELD had a right to know how she was spending the monthly allowance they provided her with. That sort of thing, she could live with.

What bothered her was the thought that, maybe, there were cameras hidden throughout the house, and that someone in a small room over at SHIELD was watching every little thing she did. The thought very much freaked her out, and a sense of paranoia began to settle into her brain.

'_Stop it_,' she told herself. '_You aren't a prisoner or someone worth keeping a 24/7 watch on_.'

She wasn't –but Bucky was. Okay, he wasn't a prisoner, but he was dangerous, and she wouldn't put it past SHIELD to have eyes both in and on the house, to make sure that Bucky didn't lose it and cause a large problem for them.

Smacking herself upside the head, Anna firmly told herself that wasn't helpful. '_You are __**not**__ a conspiracy theorist, and you are __**not**__ going to let this affect you, because paranoia isn't part of your nature_.'

Besides, Natasha wouldn't let people invade her privacy -Anna had a feeling that the female Avenger would beat up anyone at SHIELD who tried it.

'_So, it'll be just business as usual_. _Don't freak out and start worrying about something that isn't happening_.'

However, something was nagging at her. Bucky seemed very upset over their talk with Coulson, and she didn't know why. Anna felt that she needed to talk to him about all this, but a gut feeling told her that now wasn't a good time to interrupt him.

'_I'll give it an hour, then go see him_.'

Heaving a sigh, she opened her laptop and began typing up an e-mail for the family.

* * *

Slamming his right fist into the punching bag, Bucky savored the sound it made as his other fist took its turn pummeling his target.

Even though he probably had no right to be, he was angry at Director Coulson for the way he'd treated Anna. Coulson might have had his reasons, but Bucky did not agree with them.

'_I asked her to take me outside_,' he thought as his fists hit their mark. '_She could hardly say 'no' to me.'_

In all fairness, Anna _had_ refused his request, at least a first, but being the kind, considerate person she was, she'd changed her mind. Many members of HYDRA had thought it brave or foolish to refuse the Winter Solder, out of fear of what his reaction might be. Anna had done what few did: refuse what he'd asked of her, and come out unscathed. If she had done so months ago, there would have been hell to pay.

He took a deep breath. '_I'm not that person anymore. I'm different now_.'

Yes, he was different, but even if he was doing better, Anna had been brave to refuse a man who could, potentially, kill her for denying him what he wanted.

Not that he would dream of hurting Anna, but the knowledge that it could happen was very real. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before he lost his temper and lashed out, and when he did, he could only pray that Anna wasn't anywhere close by.

'_I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I harmed one hair on her head_.'

Letting his hands fall to his side, Bucky stood and watched the large bag sway back and forth in front of him, its momentum almost hypnotic. For a while, he stood and watched it slow, his mind clearing as an important realization came to him.

Anna was the reason he was able to keep a hold of his temper.

The thought surprised him, but not as much as it should have. As Bucky had suspected, long before this whole mad experiment of his had begun, a feminine touch was what he needed to change from a monster back into a man. He hadn't really thought that it would happen at all, much less this quickly.

Yes, Anna's presence made him hold back his anger, but it was more than that. He could have achieved almost the same results with drugs, or a psychiatrist, but Anna's kindness towards him was something he hadn't experienced since before HYDRA had gotten hold of him.

'_It's like…going from constantly slamming my head against a brick wall, to falling onto a blissfully soft, warm, comfortable bed_.'

That truly was the only analogy he could think of, when it came to his situation. HYDRA had been hard, brutal, and unfeeling on many different levels –they'd kept him restrained on a torturous leash, one that choked him if he tried to pull away from them. When direct orders failed, beatings came next –and when _those_ failed, the memory-wiping had been one of their most sadistic and effective resorts.

The worst was the freezing chamber they put him in when his services were 'no longer required.' Every time he went in, part of him wondered if he would ever come out again –his last thoughts were faint questions of whether he would wake up in that same decade, or in another time, where he would be unable to recognize anyone or anything around him.

'_More often than not, it was the latter_,' he sneered, clenching his fists as he took another dozen swings at the bag.

Bucky had always hated it when that had happened. He would see the faces of random strangers as he went under, but when he was brought out of it, it would be with another swarm of HYDRA scientists, soldiers, and top officers or agents standing over him, scowling as they waited for him to be fully functional again.

It would take another seventy years for him to forget about _that_ particular experience.

Anna, however, was a soothing balm to his wounded mind. Her kindness was softening the barriers he had put up to try and restrain his emotions when it came to dealing with HYDRA's techniques. HYDRA had no sympathy for anyone or anything, and those who showed it were severely punished, or even killed, so Bucky had done everything possible to become and stay the killer they wanted.

With Anna, he was allowing himself to feel emotions that HYDRA considered weak and insignificant, emotions that he found, for the most part, rather pleasant.

And it was only now that he realized how much he cherished Anna's sympathy and gentleness. She seemed to understand his internal struggles and pain, always taking it upon her self to raise his spirits when he was upset, or assure him that he was a good person and that he was now very different from the man he had been a short time ago.

Halting his punches to look at his hands, Bucky watched the metal of his false arm gleam in the light trickling in through the closed blinds dangling over the window. He had lost count of how many lives he'd taken with that one arm –it was by far superior to his flesh-and-blood one, and therefore far more effective in carrying out the many assassinations he'd been ordered to perform.

'_I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for what I've done to all those people_,' he thought with a sigh, the guilt weighing heavy on him.

But in a way, Anna had begun to lead him down that path. Even though she was still somewhat afraid of what might happen if Bucky lost control of himself, she still treated him like he was a _person_. She didn't call him a murderer or an assassin, which is what most people would have done. Anna knew what he had been, and told him that was all in the past; that things were different now, and so was he. Then she would give him a smile that seemed to lighten his mood and make everything alright, if only for a moment.

Closing his eyes, Bucky's shoulders sagged as some of his darker thoughts popped up in his mind. Even after he'd confessed to wanting to kill the man in the pastry shop, Anna had forgiven him. She had even thanked him for wanting to protect her, calling him a hero for it. Never had he considered himself a hero, not until she had called him one.

Opening his eyes, he watched as the metal of his hand gleamed as he wiggled his fingers, remembering how quickly Anna had accepted the prosthetic limb. He especially remembered the sensation of her smaller hand on his own.

Swallowing hard, Bucky admitted that he rather liked the physical contact. A touch of Anna's hand calmed him, and he often felt himself relax as she offered silent support.

Then there was that hug she'd given him…

After that hug, Bucky knew that he was willing to do anything for another one. He remembered hugging his mother, and the embraces he'd shared with other women in the past, but those memories were faded and distant. When he tried to reach for the emotions or sensations those embraces were supposed to accompany, he came up empty.

Anna's hug stayed with him, especially the sensations that it had invoked. Warmth, joy, safety, calm, and relief were only a few things that had swelled up inside his chest as her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close to her.

He swallowed hard as he recalled how nice she had felt in his arms. There was just something about holding someone, and being held, that made him feel human again. He'd held women before, but with Anna, it was different. He wasn't sure how, it just felt that way.

There was a soft step and a tentative knock on the door, drawing his attention. It was Anna, of course, come to check on him. He couldn't help but smile a little as he called for her to enter.

When she poked her head in, she returned his smile with one of her own. "I wanted to see how you were doing. You seemed upset with what happened with Director Coulson this morning."

He motioned for to come into the room. "I was upset. I didn't like his attitude towards you."

Anna sighed. "I know you didn't, but please consider the pressure he's under to keep not only you, but all of what's left of SHIELD under wraps. The world doesn't know it's still around; if it did, they'd do everything possible to bring it down for good. Phil has to think about the bigger picture, which includes a lot of other people, not just you and me."

She had a point, but Bucky still didn't like it. "Do you think he'll punish you for taking me outside?" he quietly asked.

He watched her consider it for a moment before answering. "It's possible, though I can't imagine how he'd do so," she admitted. "Best case scenario is that we're off the hook. Worst case, he decides that someone else should be brought in."

Bucky stiffened. '_If Coulson sends Anna away, I'll refuse whoever he tries to assign to me_.'

Part of him began to panic, his mind whirling with the possibilities of what would happen if Anna were to leave him. He imagined Anna's room becoming bare and empty, void of her warmth and creativity. A vision of a SHIELD operative moving in there was an unwelcome one. It would either be a cold, distant agent, or a therapist –Coulson would either put two separate people there, or one single person with qualifications in both fields.

Worse, that agent would want to start everything all over again, trying to force memories out of him with all sorts of scientific methods that Bucky knew wouldn't work, if only because he would refuse to do anything that person would ask him to. Things would go downhill from there as they clashed head-to-head, until Bucky threw the unfortunate person out the front door or out a window. The end result would be him subdued by a flood of SHIELD agents or SWAT team members, followed by imprisonment in a deep, dark cell somewhere.

He would prefer that to being without her.

Then Anna reached out to put a hand on his arm. "I doubt it'll come to that," she quietly insisted. "Coulson knows that, at this point, you probably won't accept anyone else, especially since you're making progress. It's a delicate situation, and he likely realizes that if he shakes things up, that could disrupt the flow of things. I doubt that anyone would call Phil Coulson an idiot who likes making waves when it comes to restoring a person's mental health."

No, that was more a HYDRA qualification, but he couldn't say that to her.

"So we just keep on going as we are," Anna said, her tone cheerful and light. "Now, are you hungry? You've been in here working on that bag for a while."

His stomach growled, causing him to blush and Anna to laugh. "I'll get something ready. Go clean up and come join me, hmm?"

Without hesitating, Bucky went to do as she asked.

* * *

Lunch was quiet, as always, and once the dishes where cleared away and set in the dishwasher, Anna motioned for Bucky to take a seat in the living room. He did so, an uneasy look on his face.

"I got a message from Natasha," she said. "I got it while you were cleaning up."

Bucky immediately felt ill. This was it; Coulson was going to do what Bucky feared most, and when he did, there was nothing Bucky could do about it. He could try raising hell, fighting however many agents were sent to collect Anna, but the end result would be the same: she would be gone, and he would be alone.

"She said that Director Coulson was sending a special tent for you to set up in the backyard, so that you can get some fresh air and exercise."

Bucky sat and stared at her. "She said _what_?" he asked, wondering if he'd heard right.

Anna gave him an odd look. "That you're getting a workout tent for the backyard," she repeated. "According to Natasha, the unique material will keep people from spying in on you while you're inside it. You can expose your left arm and be able to exercise without having to wear long-sleeved shirts and being uncomfortable. Isn't that great?"

He sat there in silence, his head spinning. So Coulson wasn't going to punish Anna in any way?

A hand on his shoulder brought him back. "Bucky," Anna gently whispered to him. "I know you were worried about what Coulson might do, but I told you he wouldn't risk your mental health that way. For all that he's Director of SHIELD, he's also a human being, and he has a good heart."

She smiled, her face filled with genuine amusement and ease. "And don't think for one minute that I wouldn't fight with everything I had to stay here with you. You're my friend, and you need me. I don't abandon anyone I care about, much less those who need my help."

Bucky felt his body go slack with relief, his head falling forward as he buried his face in his hands. A few seconds passed before he felt Anna's arms reaching to pull him close to her.

The next thing he knew, he was wrapped in a comforting embrace, his head nestled in a perfect area between her neck, her hair, and her shoulder. He could smell the apple shampoo she'd used just this morning, the clean baby-powder smell of her soap, and the scent that was all Anna's.

But best of all was the softness of her skin against his. He knew that the stubble along his face, which he fought to keep trimmed and neat, must scratch her, but she didn't seem to mind. She was far more worried about _his_ discomfort than her own.

"It's okay," she gently assured him, one hand on his head and another around his back. "Don't worry, I'm here."

Yes, she was; and he was never going to let her go. He couldn't, not when she was the most important person in his life.

It took a while, but he did manage to relax and (reluctantly) pull himself from Anna's embrace. No words were spoken, but they did hold hands for several long moments before Bucky quietly excused himself and headed up to his room, suddenly exhausted.

* * *

She'd never seen Bucky like this, and it worried her. He was so terrified of her leaving that it seemed to eat at him, even more so than his memories of HYDRA and its treatment of him.

Well, she was here to stay, and Anna knew what she'd said was true: if Phil wanted her to go, she was going to fight to remain here with Bucky. She didn't know what she could do against a super-secret spy agency and its Director, but she was willing to do everything possible to get him to let her stay.

Remembering how Bucky had trembled in her arms as he calmed down, Anna scowled. Oh, yes; if Director Coulson wanted to pull her out of this house and thought she was going to go quietly, he had another thing coming.

'_Well, right now, it's not going to come to that_,' she reminded herself. '_He was a bit pissed off, but he'll get over it_.' After all, it wasn't as though they were causing chaos in the streets or anything!

Still, next time, she would be more careful about it. She would warn Phil or Natasha before going out, and do everything she could to make sure that Bucky didn't experience too much stress or become the center of unwanted attention.

'_Just be a good girl and report in before and after everything you do_,' Anna sarcastically thought to herself. That was what Phil wanted, and that's what she would do.

Glancing at the stairwell, Anna silently hoped that Bucky was okay. She'd done everything she could to reassure him, but he still seemed scared about the idea of her leaving. She could only hope that, with enough time, he would be okay and come down again later to be with her. Only time would tell.

* * *

AN: Review?


	14. HYDRA

Disclaimer: I own nothing _**Captain America**_-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking _**Marvel**_ to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: More excitement in this chapter, with more to follow. Please enjoy, and please be kind and review. Thank you.

**Chapter 14: HYDRA:**

Their leader was not happy –and when he wasn't happy, no one was.

"Where is he?" was the question being constantly asked. "Why have you not found him yet?"

It was a good question, and one that many others throughout HYDRA were asking themselves:

Where was their Winter Soldier?

Several agents who had been close to Alexander Pierce during his time as head of SHIELD had some theories. They had seen that several cracks had been made to the Soldier's fragile mind, and that despite their efforts to wipe his mind, some memories were starting to seep through. He had begun to question his purpose, and to question the ways of HYDRA.

It was all thanks to that infuriating Steve Rogers, the constant thorn in HYDRA's side. He had brought them to the brink of collapse by eliminating their illustrious leader, Red Skull, and even though they had recovered remarkably well, it had taken decades of hard work to do so. But the growth of their organization had been due to Arnim Zola's hard work, and because everyone had assumed that their enemy, Captain America, had perished shortly before the end of WWII.

To their disappointment and worry, the Captain was discovered in the Arctic, and brought back from the brink of death, just in time to save the world from an alien invasion.

Even though honesty was tolerated (and sometimes brutally necessary) in HYDRA's ranks, none of them wanted to admit one particular fact: in only that one instance, the good Captain, as well as the misfit group of heroes known as The Avengers, had done HYDRA a favor. After all, they could hardly take control of the world if it had already been conquered by a much more powerful force.

However, once the world was safe again, Steve Rogers had returned to fighting against everything that HYDRA had secretly built. He brought down many of their assets, killed or captured their agents, and broke apart many rings that had taken years to establish.

And he hadn't done it alone. SHIELD had been part of their problem as well.

Although they had controlled many aspects of the agency, it was the parts of SHIELD they _hadn't_ been able to infiltrate that had been the constant frustration. Nick Fury, those loyal to him, and those dedicated to the founding principles of the organization had frozen HYDRA in its tracks for years. For ages, they had struggled to gain power in Fury's trusted circle, but failed. HYDRA's great leaders had _not_ been happy with that failure.

But now finally, they had been brought to light –however, it had been at a significant cost. A number of useful HYDRA members had been lost in the fight at the Triskelion; from minor agents to great and powerful officers like Alexander Pierce. Although HYDRA's ranks were large, losing so many in such useful places was a hard blow to their pride.

But the worst loss was the Winter Soldier. Since his retrieval from a frozen river, many resources had been used over the decades in order to submit him to their will. To have him wander off after a major battle without a word meant every effort to make him one of them had been a waste.

And if there was one thing Baron Von Strucker hated, it was waste.

One of the great leaders of HYDRA, the Baron had a particular fondness for the Winter Soldier. Perhaps it was because the Soldier was a relic from the days of Red Skull, a man the Baron admired and respected, even now. The Soldier had been retrieved and worked on by Zola himself, the Red Skull's most brilliant scientist. Zola had spent a great deal of time and effort crafting the Soldier to be HYDRA's perfect assassin, all in the hopes that he would be something the Red Skull could have been proud of.

Because of this, Von Strucker wanted him back –badly.

Unfortunately, HYDRA was still unable to reveal its full force to the world, which they had planned to do after the launch of the Helicarriers. Now, they had to remain primarily in the shadows, fuming over the loss of SHIELD, an agency that had provided the perfect cover for them to operate both in and under. While working within SHIELD, HYDRA's operatives had allowed to perform their true task of subjecting the world while pretending to do otherwise.

Now their existence was known, and the weapon that would have made it possible to conquer the world had been destroyed. Without the Helicarriers to subdue any opposition against their efforts, it would take some time before they could boldly head out into the world to act however they wished.

Even worse, with the world's governments now searching for HYDRA's bases and agents, obtaining the Winter Soldier had become even more difficult. And this made the Baron _very_ impatient.

So far, their efforts were a tremendous disappointment. They had searched each and every hideout the Soldier had ever used during his assignments, and combed through every city, town, and tiny village he had managed to set foot in. There was no sign of him anywhere.

A search of Washington DC had proved fruitless as well. It was the last place he had been, and starting a few days after the destruction of the Carriers and Triskelion, no one had been able to have eyes on him.

One final play would have to be made, and if this failed, there were few straws left to draw on.

* * *

The agents standing before the view screen tried not to let their nervousness show. One of the great heads of HYDRA gazed down at them, a serious look on his face as he reclined in his large black leather chair.

"Report, quickly," he ordered.

Although his tone was soft and gentle, it was deceptively so. Behind the glasses, cold eyes stared down at his subordinates, a slightly expectant expression on a face that remained blank, with only a tiny hint of false kindness. It was the face that most HYDRA agents presented, before they struck their opponents dead.

Everyone swallowed, hard and silently. One of the more senior members of those gathered tried to nudge a less important underling forward to take the fall, but if there was one thing Daniel Whitehall hated, it was getting information from someone he deemed insignificant.

He pointed to the head of the spy network assigned to the task Whitehall had set them to. "You! What has your team gathered so far?"

The man, Adam Lennox, tried to remain calm as he began delivering a report he'd hoped to push onto another, to save his own skin.

"We've been able to establish that, due to his exposure to Captain America, the Winter Solder has begun to unlock his memories about his past," Lennox managed to calmly inform his superior officer. "We have obtained footage of him visiting the Smithsonian numerous times, always making his way to the Bucky Barnes monument."

Whitehall scowled, freezing Lennox in his report. After a tense moment, Whitehall nodded, signaling him to continue.

"From what we have determined, he has gathered as much information as he possibly can through public records. This includes the monument, and any possible SHIELD records that were leaked during the fall of the Triskelion and the Carriers."

Again, Whitehall did not look pleased. "Did the SHIELD records have anything significant?"

Lennox shook his head. "It primarily consisted of information from his time in the Army, as well as his supposed demise." He swallowed hard. "It appears that there was some document digging in Russia, in regards to what records were kept there on the Soldier by Russian HYDRA agents. A few key files were pulled and delivered to Washington DC, namely to Agent Romanoff."

Everyone watched as Whitehall's lips turned down in a definite scowl. "No doubt she put those files directly into Steve Rogers' hands," he stated.

Lennox nodded. "We believe that to be the case."

"Have you eyes on the Captain?" Whitehall asked, placing his hands together so that his fingertips rested underneath his chin.

There was another nod from Lennox. "Yes, sir; we have eyes on him. Currently, he's traveling around the globe with his wife." He paused to take a calming breath. "But I'm afraid we cannot get very close to them."

A silvery grey eyebrow rose on Whitehall's face. "Explain."

Lennox turned towards his head of surveillance and jerked his head. He clearly didn't intend to go down alone, not if he could put someone else on the chopping block, both literally and figuratively.

Everett Stone grudgingly stepped forward. "Captain America has been hired as an employee by Tony Stark," he said, praying that he wouldn't break into a nervous sweat. "It is a very high position having to do with security. As such, he is always accompanied by at least one guard who is completely trustworthy and loyal to Stark Industries."

That was another thing that annoyed the HYDRA leaders. They had tried for many years to infiltrate Stark Industries, but so far, had only managed to plant a few people in low-level positions, as those were the ones who required the least thorough background checks. Those they had working within Stark Industries had no access to important documents or computer systems, which meant nothing was being gained for having their people employed there.

Even worse, anyone in the more important roles was being check on constantly, their actions monitored every moment they were inside a Stark building. Someone always knew where they were, what they were doing, and who they were meeting with. It was almost enough to make HYDRA envious, if they hadn't already been angry.

And since Stark Industries was known for its technology, they had some of the best computer software protection in the world, making it nearly impossible for a HYDRA agent to break into the company's computer systems from within the building. Breaking in from the outside was even more impossible.

Regrettably, for all the effort and training that had been put into training those agents, there was nothing coming back to HYDRA in return for all their wasted resources.

Now Captain America was working for Tony Stark, and that left him under that same protective umbrella –or should they say 'shield?' Well, it didn't matter. Steve Rogers was constantly just out of reach, which meant they couldn't abduct and interrogate him for information.

"We can't get close to his wife, either," Stone informed his superior. "Adena Rogers is under even more protection than her husband. She never goes out alone, and her schedule, if she has one, is known by only a select few."

Whitehall regarded the entire group with his calm, even gaze. "Is that all you have on this? Can anyone tell me for certain if the Soldier has contacted the good Captain?"

Stone shook his head. "We know that he has not. If he had done so, he would be with Captain Rogers, not missing."

Lennox took a step forward. "It is well-known that, before we turned him, the Soldier was like a brother to Steve Rogers. If the two men had managed to get in contact with one another, Steve Rogers would never leave his friend alone, no matter what. Considering the delicate state of mind the Soldier must be in, Steve Rogers would be helping his friend with his blocked or forgotten memories, not traveling the world."

Whitehall didn't look angry, but he wasn't impressed, either. "So the Winter Soldier has not reunited with his old friend," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Interesting. But if they are not together, then where is the Fist of HYDRA? The Baron is growing impatient."

The entire room tried to remain calm as Stone quietly replied, "I'm afraid we aren't sure."

"We have theories, sir," Lennox rushed to say. "We simply need time to follow them, to see if they pan out."

Their leader's gaze hardened. "Theories are of no use to us," he snapped.

"But we might have a way of finding the Soldier!" Lennox hurried on, his tone slightly panicked.

Now Whitehall looked interested. "You had better not be stalling to save your own skin, Lennox. I don't like being made a fool of, especially not when I have to report failures directly to Baron Von Strucker."

Stone somehow managed to gather his courage. "Sir, several of us believe that, even though it _seems_ that the Soldier has not contacted Steve Rogers, it is possible that this could be a sort of diversion."

The room went silent as their leader appeared to think about that for a moment. Finally, he drawled, "Go on."

Stone was more than happy to babble out his team's idea. "There is the possibility that Steve Rogers could be diverting our attention away from the Soldier by traveling the world, causing us to track him instead of the Soldier's whereabouts. With our eyes on him, we would always be looking in the wrong places."

He watched Whitehall nod. "That is quite plausible. How do you intend to find out whether or not this is, in fact, the case?"

Lennox stepped forward. "We intend to abduct one of Adena Rogers' family members, in order to force Mrs. Rogers to provide key information. Her family is large, and close-knit –she will comply with our wishes, to get her family member back."

Now Whitehall looked slightly impressed. "Very well. Proceed with the abduction, but make sure you thoroughly look into her family tree, if only to find the best target. I want no mistakes when it comes to this endeavor. There are many government agencies still searching for us, including several annoying pockets of SHIELD that still dare to exist."

Everyone in the room saluted him as he signed off, leaving them to their mission.

* * *

Researching Adena Rogers' family was more difficult than most of them had imagined. The sheer number of immediate family was impressive, and combing through all of their information was frustrating and time-consuming.

Then there was the hard task of choosing who to take.

The older adults of retirement age were a possibility, but if torture became a necessary means of extracting information from them, there was the risk of them dying prematurely. It was always hard to deal with older people.

Children were also something HYDRA disliked when it came to hostages or kidnap victims. They were noisy, messy, rude, and always caused a maddening amount of frustration and anger amongst the agents. This was especially the case when the child managed to slip free and run around, breaking things and kicking or punching the agents holding them.

There were many young adults in Mrs. Rogers' family, but unfortunately, not all of them would make ideal targets –not when their resources in regards to that sort of mission were going to be minimal. Taking young adults tended to involve them making a scene of some kind, and that was not what they wanted –not if they needed a person alive and in good health.

"We might not be the 'good guys' that SHIELD was, but we can't go in with guns blazing," Lennox instructed them. "Tempting as it is, we need people alive and not terrified of us. If we kill everyone, or harm too many, we'll get nothing. We treat this carefully, and we treat the prisoner delicately…at least until they are of no use to us."

After much digging, a few of the information gatherers began to notice something odd with one of Mrs. Rogers' cousins.

"Sir, a Miss Anita Wallace has mysteriously left her home town," one of female members, Tina, reported, eyes fixed on the screen before her.

Lennox didn't know whether to be excited or skeptical about it. "Explain."

Tina nodded. "Apparently her parents posted online that their daughter went to start a new government job in New York City. However, after digging into many government databases in regards to recently hired employees, Anita Wallace's name is nowhere to be found."

Another tech shrugged. "She might have lied and run off to join a circus or something. You know how young people are –they rebel by lying to their parents about where they're going and what their doing, and disappear."

Tina ignored her coworker, instead keeping her attention focused on her superior officer. "Sir, she apparently moved out all of her furniture and carefully packed belongings. She then headed off with it all in a large U-haul truck in a travel group. People don't do that if they're going to run off randomly."

Lennox went to take a closer look at Tina's computer screen. "So the question is: where did she move herself to?"

A small smirk pulled at the edges of Tina's thin mouth. "We've been looking, sir, but she left no forwarding address, not even with her parents. She had no employment listings with any government agency, and if her parents' online postings are any indication, Miss Wallace mostly communicates with her loved ones via e-mail and phone calls."

"Which she would do only if she didn't want someone to visit her and find out what she's really doing," Lennox finished for her, a smile how growing on his face.

Stone nodded. "Whatever is left of SHIELD must have her. And if they have her, it must be for one very special reason. It can't be a coincidence that she vanishes not long after the Soldier did."

"Get a team to keep an eye on Miss Wallace's parents," Lennox ordered, his people rushing to obey. "I want their calls and e-mails monitored. Track their daughter's messages as close as you can to their source."

By now, everyone in the room was beginning to feel more confident. They had finally found a way to track down the Winter Soldier.

Even better, they might have some leverage to use against him and SHIELD.

* * *

AN: Review?


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